I'm Scared Too: Act One
by Magic Flying Spud
Summary: After the pressure mounts too high, Kim snaps and resigns from Team Possible. She strikes it out into the world alone but finds herself unable to drop her obsession with saving the world and ends up on a scary path she never quite saw for herself. Slow burn, very queer, Dark!Kim, realistic take on depression.
1. Lapses

"Alright Ron, you're on Shego. I got Drakken."

"Sure thing KP — waaaaaait, hold up! Kim, you fight Shego, I create a distraction. There's a rhythm to how these things work."

"Yeah, that's not going to fly this time Big Blue."

"You know if you told me that I'd have to work this much harder just because I threw two aliens into space — "

 **Massachusetts Institute of Technology: Cambridge, Massachusetts**  
 **July 16, 2007: 4:37PM**

It is an adventure ununlike any other. Doctor Drakken is "outsourcing" from another famed scientist and Shego is as miserable as ever. Team Possible has arrived to the scene right on cue and within seconds our combatants are engaged in their usual runaround.

"Are you seriously sticking me with the Buffoon, Princess?!" Shego screams, plasma immediately flaring from her gnarled hands. Quickly, Shego stuffs away her rage and throws her hands to her hips and smiles coyly. "Eh, cool with me. Long as you're okay riding home with your BF in a pine box."

Ron's face falls. "You know I'm still here, right?"

Kim smirks and patts Ron on the back. "You're gonna have to grow a spine, Ron. She's feisty."

Shego's malicious grin rises higher with the roar of her emerald glow. "Makes sense Princess' BF wouldn't have experience with feisty women."

Kim and Ron's faces both go pink and Shego dives forward, ready to burn Ron to a crisp, but right as her fists fly over his cranium, he flips his legs into the air and nails Shego right in the stomach.

Ron spins and lands firmly planted on the dusty floor as Shego rolls through the dust plumes he had kicked up.

Off of Shego's grimace, Ron sticks his nose into the air. "Looks like the sidekick's got a little — upside kick left in him?"

Kim and Shego blink.

"We're still workshopping that one," Ron moans. "KP, catch me up on quipping later."

"Definitely not your scene," Shego grins as she gets to her feet, brushing off the thick dust caked onto her catsuit.

Kim rolls her eyes and sneaks one last glance at the ensuing fight before running off to find Drakken — wherever he is. Something isn't clicking — Shego is robbing Dr. Bortel blind and Drakken is nowhere to be seen. Kim thinks maybe this means Shego is sort of a red herring; like this is MIT and Doctor Bortel's weirdo tech is so small fry. Drakken's gotta be up to something. This whole sitch screams peculiarity after peculiarity; for instance, they aren't fighting in a warehouse or zany factory but a pretty famous university.

Let alone Drakken being back in action is weird. Kim kinda had him pegged as a forever hero after Lowardia...

Running past the rows of highly gifted college kids taking a summer semester, Kim remarks at how small she feels besides these young adults that ar really barely older than her. How jealous she feels that they all had the hour they needed to plan their future. Within a mere two months Kim could be one of them. It sends a shiver up her spine; after everything that's happened this year, it feels wrong to saunter off to college like any other eighteen year old with vague ambition.

The Lowardian Invasion left the world in shambles back in June and already it wracks Kim's brain to remember what Earth was like before. Many people, including Kim, lost their homes because of the disaster, and no one had power for weeks. It was not uncommon to head to work and drive past several fallen Lowardian Cruisers on the way. Global communication was nigh impossible and all over there was paranoia. Aliens, actual aliens, came close to conquering the world yet somehow — Earth defended itself.

Or rather Ron defended Earth. But that's Classified.

Which places Kim and Ron under Global Justice's protection. Things like Wade's battlesuit have been confiscated for testing and every once in a while, some doctors check out Ron's body in a desperate search for abnormalities. In return, the national military tosses enough freelance assignments to them now that Kim, Ron, and Wade might as well have a salary with GJ.

At first, Kim was thrilled at the opportunity to keep working rather than stress out constantly. College was on their brains too — and while Ron was thrilled to marinate and coast through the missions off his badical new powers — well….

Ron has a lot of potential to grow into — rather, he's always had the potential, but it's now more prevalent and obvious than ever. But giving Ron's inclination to take advantage of badical situations — Kim has her work cut out for her.

Kim has been charged with training Ron; Sensei would have been preferable but that would have required pulling Ron from the field. While lots of villains had been scared stiff by the near end of the world, others rose to take advantage of the chaos the Lowardians left behind, and it's imperative Kim works Ron into shape. Because eventually the challenge will be something not even her mortal hands can handle.

Which sucks by the way.

Kim also hates to admit to negative feelings, it but just looking at Shego after all this time, and for her to act like nothing has changed, sends this clammy revulsion surging down her throat that's somewhat akin to vomit. But she needs to hold it in, Ron can't handle a discussion on what Kim really thinks of Drakken and Shego. What she wants for them to accomplish.

Ron didn't believe they'd really make the switch to good, and he'll probably gloat later. But Kim believed.

Every night, Kim and Ron ends up holed up in some swanky hotel room and while there's a comfort in being so close to her boyfriend, to have so many chances to intimate with him, she can't. She's his trainer, she needs to hold him accountable to his power. It definitely lobs a hefty wrench into a still blossoming relationship, and it makes her resent Ron. Ron resents her too, she thinks, for making him do things.

It's a migraine. A migraine made much worse by Shego and Drakken's return to form.

"You know, she thinks she's all that…."

Kim slides to a halt and turns to her right. Speak of the Devil.

Kicking open the door, Kim finds herself in the office of the Dean of MIT, a small sunlit room veiled in shadow from the massive stack of papers. At one end of the desk is the Dean, Subra Suresh, an older Indian man with dark eyes still beaming with innovation. Opposite Suresh, with his back to Kim, is Dr. Drakken.

Something about seeing the ol' Bad Doctor back at it spreads a horrible chill throughout her body and sets the scene just how it always has been in her nightmare. But this is of course the worst moment to give into any of kind of dread.

"...and she really is — oh! We were just talking about you!" Drakken laughs, sliding back the cushioned chair and getting to his feet.

Kim looks from Suresh to Drakken. "What's going on?"

"Oh, just giving my letter of recommendation!" Drakken chuckles.

"Um… thanks?" Kim raises an eyebrow. "Taking this whole robbery thing a little casually aren't you?"

Suresh's fists pound against his desk as he rockets to his feet. " I thought you just wanted to drop by and talk about how great Kim Possible is — you're robbing us?! "

Drakken's cheeks go purple. "Uh — I prefer to call it outsourcing — "

Suresh shakes his head. "Unbelievable."

"Don't worry Professor," Kim smiles. "We got our best man on the job."

"Who? The Buffoon?" Drakken says with much relish. Suresh can only claw at his bald spot in frustration.

Kim steps forward to throw one swift punch into Drakken's jaw but before she can even process it, two green tendrils protrude from Drakken's neck and spear her shoulders, tying her up fast and pinning her to the wall ten feet above. Her back slams against the plaster, accolades and certificates rock off the wall and shatter on the floor.

Kim glares down at Drakken and pushes hard against the tendrils, but they only wrap around her tighter; she had completely forgotten about Drakken's flower predicament.

"So — what?" Kim cocks her head to the side. "Did you like how the vines gave you someone to play pattycake with?"

"Ooh the mouth on you!" Drakken cries out, an array of petals immediately sprouting around his head. His face fell. "Don't say it."

Kim bites her tongue as she snickers away. "Alright, Dr. Drakkfodil."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," Drakken looks off to the side. "But you won't be laughing anymore after this villainous violet vanquishes their virulent — uh, v—foe."

Kim smirks at Drakken's little slip.

"What? It was on short notice, I didn't think we'd be doing flower puns!"

…

"Alright Shego. What's your game?" Ron says, elbows arched to his shoulders and fingers set a-twiddlin'.

"Uh — I dunno honestly, Dr. D never tells me anything," Shego sighs.

Ron frowns. Prying out the villainous, villainous monologue from his foe is one of his favorite techniques of stalling. Already, he misses the condescending yet still tolerable rapport he had with Drakken. "Huh. Well that's rude of him, huh?"

"Eh, I couldn't care less either way," Shego nods and lobs several flurries of plasma at Ron.

Ron's feet stay planted to the ground like one of those towering balloon with wagglin' arms you always see outside the gas station. As the blasts dart towards him, he desperately flings his body into an erratic spiral and somehow manages to evade each and every blast.

Shego winces and picks up the pace, but she can swear she sees a spark of blue flash in her emerald lightshow. Great, he's gonnna do the Mystical Monkey Thing.

Suddenly, she hears a crash as one of Ron's feet swing fully over his head and come down on one of the plasma blasts, the energy disintegrating upon impact.

"Oh here we go," Shego rolls her eyes as Ron's foot plants into the floor, light blue shockwaves cascading several inches from the now cracked tile. Ron's normally brown eyes flicker into a surging turquoise and he leaps at least twenty feet into the air.

With his newfound control over the Mystical Monkey Power, Ron never really knows what he is getting himself into. Like everything else he has experienced before, he surrenders his trust and hopes for the best, allowing the ancient techniques to flow into his body; this makes it somewhat easier to mentally process all the new combat Kim is forcing him to learn.

Feet flipping over his head and back to the ground, Ron glides through the air, zeroing in on Shego, feet flapping out and vaulting into a high speed assault at her skull.

Shego grins and swings both her gauntlets into the air, blocking the first kick, although it hurts. A lot. Blue energy flares off of Ron's feet, propelling him back just far enough for his feet to pick up speed as they hammer down on the green mercenary. Each blow threatens to cave in Shego's wrists behind the gloves, but she holds strong, although her canines start cutting into her lips from her resulting grimace.

Each kick bleeds into the next and with no signs of stopping, Shego has somehow found herself locked into defense. Ron is just relentless enough in this blitzkrieg that the language of their tussle is completely under his command.

"Your —energy's — g-good!" Shego remarks haughtily. "But you're gonna — have to — wooorrrrRRRKKKK! — gah — on that form."

Ron frowns. "Hey! Last time I checked I'm the guy who threw two aliens into space!"

Can't someone — just once — acknowledge that he is a Certified Tough Guy now? The whole sidekick angle is so last month.

"Uh huh yeah, you mentioned this earlier." And then Shego drops her fists.

"Woops," Ron bleats as one of his feet swing through the empty air and like the ill-fated Charlie Brown, Ron's foot continues to slice into the air, arching his entire body up into the sky.

"You were more focused on distracting me than you were beating me," Shego lectures. "Maybe Princess promoted you too early, Newbie."

Ron thoughtfully scratches his chin while plummeting from the air. "Newbie's a better name at least."

"Ugh, zero the ego, Buffoon," Shego rolls her eyes and flings both arms out, grabbing onto Ron by the seat of his pants and in a move that sends serious whiplash down her arms, Shego throws Ron so hard that he soars clean out of his pants ("Aw man! Still?!") and straight into Dr. Bortel's lab table. But his beat red face is totally worth the killer strain that did to her poor arms.

Beakers and cylinders erupt as random chemicals drip everywhere, burning Ron's scrambling legs as he slips off the table and falls to the floor. Rubbing his head, he boosts himself back up to be eye level with Shego and opens his mouth to say something when Dr. Bortel comes in carrying an armful of gadgets and gizmos.

"Here are the devices you and Drew wanted to look at!" Bortel cries out with starry eyes, immediately frowning at the sight of his destroyed experiments. "Oh Ron, so good to see you," he says with the air of someone bumping into their mother-in-law.

Ron grimaces. "Dude, 'Drew' and Shego are robbing you."

Bortel claps hand to his mouth. "What?! I thought you guys were good now!"

Shego blinks a few times and groans. She returns back to the two of them with dead eyes and shrugs. "You really that surprised, Doc?"

…

Losing the upper-hand to Drakken is absolutely one of the worst feelings in the world and while it hurts to keep her jaw locked in anger, Kim remains silent as the Bad Doctor's vines throttle her out the door and into the wall opposite them. Drakken chortles as he steps out the now gaping hole in the wall leading into Suresh's office and looks up at his enemy. "Who would believe that I — Dr. Drakken — could take Kim Possible down in a fight?! You should've sent your Buffoon."

"Someone's got a big head," Kim deadpans. "Must be the petals."

Drakken lets his grin slowly melt into an ugly smirk as sharp as the scars that run under his eye. "You laugh but my flowers have given me ultimate power!"

"Hm, well I wonder how they feel about you using them for evil now. Considering how they uh — you know — saved the world," Kim growls.

"Ha!" Drakken laughs so sharply she can hear a light ting! echo off the fluorescent lights above them. Tears trickle from the corners of his eyes and his voice gleefully shook with emotion. "You really are naive!"

He's changed. This isn't the silly goofball Drakken she can tool on.

Drakken then goes off on some tangent about some crossover between conquering the world and kids these days with their cellular devices and YouTube, giving her ample time to think. She closes her eyes and shuts out Drakken's incessant rambling. Her muscles relax and despite being held up in the air, her body sinks towards the floor as all the tension drops out. Her heartbeat slows and sweat stopped pouring down her forehead. For a moment, she can feel her light body safe and alone.

Something she's picked up from the readings she's been doing lately is that it's sometimes good to picture a safe place to escape into, that can instantly calm you. It's not easy for her, but she can at least try.

Kim pictures herself and Ron living together, older but hanging out like a couple of teenagers. Ever-lasting love and stuff like that and honestly, it doesn't help. The vines pinch harder to her waist and she nearly whimpers from the pain.

This isn't it, this isn't what she wants. She just knows it's what people see for her in the gossip columns. This is kind of why she hates meditating; she never finds what she wants. So she tries again, she needs to if she wants to break free from Drakken.

She imagines… she doesn't know. Blackness, a void, an emptiness, nothing.

She doesn't know what it brings her, she just knows that whatever comes next for her, it has to be different and on her own terms. She needs to live. She needs to… try. Yes, Kim needs to try for once in her life to break free from the pattern.

Wow, that's dark? It works though, the vines respond to Kim's sudden serenity and loosen their grip on her, becoming slack under her weight.

" — and don't even get me started on the lack of respect towards the traditional captive / captor relationship!" Drakken shakes his fist in the air just in time to watch Kim slip free from the vines and drop to the floor.

Kim brushes the hair from her eyes and glares daggers at Drakken, taking note of him flinching in her wake. "Let's go."

"Nyrgh…." Drakken's upper lip quivers as he pulls back the vines before blasting them back at Kim. The lithe teen pirouettes about, dodging each lashing, bits of plaster bursting from the walls and showering her in white dust.

Keeping up with the vines was easy; it is obvious right away that he got his technique from Shego. Imagining the two training together in a gym really makes her want to laugh but she has to hold onto her serious face. Overtime, she imagines the affection they must show one another, how much they must share.

Ron doesn't do that, he doesn't listen to any of her feedback. He just does his own thing — it's impossible. Kim is just barely keeping up with his rhythm and at each near-miss, she feels a razor slice through the air just skimming her skin. It'ss enough of a kick that she starts to feel like her old self again as a strategy blossoms.

Thrashing to and fro, Kim gets ambitious and starts clambering across the vines as they pass by, flipping forward and back, keeping Drakken guessing. A projection plays in her head of the vines as she dances about, showing her exactly how they are moving and how she is forcing them to cross each other; it's almost too easy.

She somersaults several yards back and watches as Drakken's sweaty face screws up in concentration. The vines pull off the walls they destroyed and once again, lunge at her… but this time, they have crossed over each too many times and in this desperate attack, the vines pull taut against each other and form a knot.

Drakken chokes at the pressure it does to his neck, and falls to his knees, the flower petals falling off his neck one by one. Looks awfully painfully, and Kim knows it's a bit dark. But something about the old coot sputtering at such pain kinda thrills her. He deserves it.

"I know what you're thinking," Kim saunter over to Drakken, stepping over the fallen vines. "And it's a common mistake. There's actually a K at the start of that word."

…

Shego and Ron thrash about the room, arms and legs flying so fast it's impossible for any one, including them, to keep track of who really has the upper-hand. While Shego strikes with such precision, Ron's energy is wild and unpredictable, desperate yet successful in its guard. Yet still a nervous gulp stays lodged in Ron's Adam's Apple.

Right after the Lowardian Invasion, Kim started to start acting like someone else, and that's saying a lot from the guy who's known her since age five. Ron kinda knows why she's different at least; Global Justice has them working to the bone, and Ron, Kim's Potential Boy, is now under her tutelage.

But one thing made Kim happy — Drakken and Shego. Yeah. Ew City. But she was so excited that their two nemesis finally turned to the light. Kim would chatter on and on about their collective dreams of the future. Ron never really knew what to say; her fixation on the duo worried him. He figured Drakken and Shego's shift was a one-and-done kind of deal rather than an eternal servitude to the Good Boy Side.

Maybe Kim knows something he doesn't, Ron never really connected with Drakken and Shego on that level. His arch-enemy was Monkey Fist and the dude got turned into a rock so….

But Kim — Kim really believed it, which is strange because when the chips are down, Ron is big picture and Kim is nuts n' bolts.

Ron, don't you think I'm scared too? Kim told him during the Invasion.

They don't talk about it and Ron can't shake it. He can't forget the strain in her voice nor the anguish in her wide eyes. This person that he's grown with and fought alongside and looked up to — is scared. About what? He almost doesn't want to know. Especially because things are changing fast.

It's not fair — Ron is the one who has to deal with changes, Kim is just reflecting at them. He is the one who is allowed to be scared, not her.

Whenever Kim and him go out on a date, she laughs herself into tears at his jokes. She doesn't banter like she used to, she's so quiet. She just listens. Her strides come with a little bit more weight and her mind is so far off.

This started because of the Lowardian Invasion. Correction. It wasn't because of the end of the world; it was because of Drakken and Shego.

Shego grabs Ron by the boot and whirls him into the air — should Ron stop the fight and talk to her? Reason with her? Try to fix the thing that broke? It would make Kim happy at least.

All these thoughts come to a close as Ron's lizard brain kicks in as a response to him face planting against Dr. Bortel's splintering lab table so hard that he bounces off to the floor. He pushes so hard on the table to get back up that he nearly slips off of it. He readies himself to fight and instead finds Shego halfway across the room browsing through Bortel's inventions.

"Uh." Ron exchanges a look with Bortel who shrugs back. "Dang — uh — Shego? Hey — uh — hi! I thought — thought we were fighting? I mean — we don't have to? I guess."

"Buzz off rookie," Shego grumbles while she inspects each trinket.

"Um — well — okay," Ron's sweaty palm folds to his forehead. "Well — that's cool, I kinda wanted to talk anyways. About you guys doing evil stuff again. You kinda hurt Kim's feelings."

Shego casts him a stone cold look as if to say, So?

"I know," Ron soliloquies. "You don't want to hear about our feelings but like — she's hurting and — would you please listen?"

"Uh huh, yeah, I'm listening," Shego drawls. "Oh sweet!" She looks over to Bortel and holds up one of the Moodulators. "We were wondering if you were still working on these."

"Aw dude!" Ron shakes his head. "Those things are sick and wrong — you gotta cut that out."

"Heh," Bortel can only cheese at them in response. "Uh — what can I say — the military auctioned for 'em."

"Aw, well you might want to tell the military that they've been outbid!" Shego laughs and whips out a crate full of gadgets with enough force to send a whole gallery's worth of unethical and convoluted looking machinery into the air. Ron instinctively leaps forward and lashs his limbs about, swatting at the inventions. He kicks off his boots and slides his toes between the the clattering metal, holding them just above their impact with the floor.

Nothing is broken and with one braggadocious monkey whoop, Ron starts finally feeling like himself.

"So you ready to do the one thing you're actually good at?" Shego smirks as she lazily tosses a wild plasma bolt up and down almost like a stress ball.

"Oh yeah! The Ron-Dog is out to play!" Ron says, but instead of a rapid fire quip from Shego, all that comes his way is plasma. He tries getting out of the way but he's way too encumbered by all the discarded gadgets. His body kicks into defense mode and ignites in Mystical Monkey Power — that catches on Shego's plasma like fire.

"I'll tell Princess for ya — " he thinks he hears Shego say as the plasma burns the frayed wires to something shoved into his armpit, and before he knows it a chain reaction of explosions are going off and then —

— white.

…

Kim guides the weeping Drakken back to Bortel's lab, his own vines twisted into handcuffs, when the door to the lecture hall blasts off its hinges and nearly crushes the two of them. Fighting to regain her grip on Drakken's wee digits as he desperately tries to skedaddle from her, Kim looks up to see the silhouette of Shego framed in the doorway. Her shadow is only visible from the faint green light glowing from her hands. Everything behind her is dark gray — and — swirling?

Oh God, what did she do? And where's ron?

Suddenly Drakken and Shego don't matter so much anymore; she lets go of Drakken and bolts up to the exit. Shego finally steps out from the shadows with an ugly smirk cracking her face, the green light flickering out of control.

"Looks like you thought your Sidekick was all that — " Shego starts but pauses as Kim's shoulder brushes against hers.

"Move it, Shego!" Kim growls.

The green light sparks again and Shego grabs Kim by the back of her shirt and flips her into the air, slamming her limp body to the floor. Shego purses her lips. "Aw, Princess doesn't want to fight right now? That's too bad."

Kim looks up into Shego's emerald eyes and sees the same unflinching, uncaring face that she is all too familiar with.

God dammit, she's so upset. How could this have happened? She trusted these two to do the right thing, she let them walk, she let them… occupy space in her mind.

They both could have been so much more, especially Shego. Always Shego. Why on God's green earth has she chosen to walk this path? She's better than this, but everytime she ends up at Drakken's side, smirking like it's not a big deal. But it is a big deal.

To her at least.

Pinned to the floor, glaring into the same eyes Kim has been avoiding for years now, Kim finally speaks her mind.

Her voice is shaky but her resolve is cold and final.

"Steal whatever you want and go. Stay out of our lives. I don't ever want to see you again."

Shego's eyes widen as if she's mistaken, as if she thought Kim say something else and is trying to re-decipher it. But the long silence holds between them, her pupils dilate at the realization that it is actually Kim's voice that scorned her so. Shego's hands open and Kim slips out from under her, leaving the Bad Doctor and his Henchwoman behind, plunging deep into the smog.

The smoke immediately brings tears to Kim's eyes and she wishes that she had the battle suit on her; Global Justice has been holding it for nearly a month now in processing as they decide if they feel comfortable with Wade's technology. So all Kim can do is throw her elbow to her nose and hope for the best.

"Wade," she spits past her arm into the Kimmunicator. "We need to escape MIT ASAP. I need an out."

"I'm on it," the tech genius chirps as she grabs the shattered hinges to a door that she really wishes wasn't splintered and burnt. Peering into the once dark room now lit ablaze, there is no sign of Bortel anywhere. Flames have spread across every surface and enveloped the room so much that Kim almost thinks she went to the wrong place. But no. It's the lab, because she very quickly finds Ron. His body is scorched, covered in burn marks and bruises, but his entire body is tinged with that mystical monkey blue. It barely keeps him alive for now.

Kim wedges her arms underneath his back, a little taken back by how her gloves run across a smooth wall rather than the lumpy, frumpled Ron Stoppable. "I don't know if you're there Ron," Kim whispers. "But I'm here now."

Instead of the weak "Kay-Pee…" she hopes for, she hears the strangled chirpings of a naked mole rat. Eyes widening, Kim pushes against the blue barrier protecting Ron and feels Rufus squirming from within one of the pockets. The pink creature pokes his head out and looks at Kim with dim recognition, his little body pulsating in his strained effort to live.

"Stay with me, Rufus," Kim pushes a finger up against the barrier and allows a gentle smile as Rufus rubs his head against the point of contact. "We're going to get out of here."

Kim throws her game face back on, Wade begins talking, voice filtered through her pocket. "Kim, you there? There's tunnels under MIT, I can guide you into one, but you might need a student to swipe you in."

"Um — Wade, there's a fire. I'll figure it out."

There's a strained silence before Wade gives directions. Usually Kim is the one to find a way to stop the imminent disaster, but today there is no time for that. And usually, it's just some bad guy's lair going up in smoke. But today it's students' home.

They only have seconds to live and while each door Kim passes by is burnt and scars her fists and feet when she kicks through them, she finds this to be correct. There are stragglers waiting for someone like her to come to them, and it makes it feel worth it. Though she knows she only has so much time until the smoke overtakes it.

It gets hard to think. She just knows that some point, she is leading a group of seven down the blazing halls.

"Oh shoot, we need our ID," one student growls as they screeches to a halt before the imposing tap card barrier.

Kim screams bloody murder, and the students go silent. She doesn't understand why, she can't think, she can't breath. She kicks the barrier and nothing happens. She tries again and again and again and it starts to cave to the brunt of her strength. She kicks again and the thick plastic separating them from the way out shatters. The shards fall around her and Kim drops Ron. She chokes, she flops forward and feels no more.

...

"Kim! Kim! You guys okay? Shoot! Guys! Ron?! Come on! Anybody!" Wade's voice echoes down the barren tunnel.

…

"You were really brave today," an older blond girl smiles, curling the hair out of Kim's eyes. "What's your name?"

They are in some dark, dirty tunnel. Above them, shafts of light shone through the mesh ceiling that kept them separate from ground level Cambridge.

The girl's voice is so soft. She can't have been much older than Kim but something about the way her cropped hair curls around her chin and the way her relaxed shoulders support a leather jacket that retains her femininity, Kim feels small at her touch. Like she is being protected.

Kim is only 18. But she has always been the most important person in the room, being the most equipped to save a world that usually needs saving, so she has always felt older than everyone. In this moment, she is so conscious of her age. She feels like a teenager. A real teenager. And she wants this girl to kiss her with her soft, pastel pink lips. Furthermore, Kim wants the girl to hold her tight and never let go. She feels so scared, lights are still flashing and she knows she is about to plunge back into unconsciousness.

"It's Possible," she flubs, her cheeks a little red. "Kim Possible." Her head falls like a ragdoll into her shoulder. "But that's a common mista—"

…

Vomit splashes into a bucket.

This is a simple moment. Not much else going on.

...

"Kay-Pee…."

"..."

"I'm sorry for messing everything up."

* * *

"Hey there kiddo, you awake?"

 **Mass Ave: Cambridge, Massachusetts**  
 **July 16, 2007: 5:24PM**

Apparently she has been awake for a few minutes now but it took someone asking her if she was awake to realize it. Go figure.

Kim looks up at Doctor Suresh from her spot on top of a brick wall overlooking the Charles River. A tree supports her back and casts a shade over the two that makes her feel very separate. Her eyes narrow at the billowing smoke still coming out from the building, but it looks like the fire department is getting everything under control.

"Did everyone get out?" she asks.

"Thanks to you, yes," he pats her on the shoulder. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you did all this because we rejected your application. Rest assured Ms. Possible, you can absolutely attend MIT this fall."

"Application? I didn't — " Kim groans and gives up; this is probably a sign that it's time to have a real heart to heart with Wade. No, she isn't attending MIT just because Wade would totally go there. "Nevermind, what did Drakken and Shego even steal?"

Doctor Suresh blinks and shakes his head. "According to your Buffoon friend, just the Moodulators." He blinks again. "Which we did not authorize by the way. Those things are unethical."

"He's not a buffoon, ya know," Kim chastises.

"Oh," Suresh shrugs. "He did respond to the name."

Sounds like Ron alright. She breaks eye contact for a moment and tries to make sense of what's going on. Letter of recommendation from Drakken. Moodulators. Arson. Sounds more like the makings of some 'Destroy Kim Possible!' scheme than the usual run-of-the-mill Drakkanada plot. Then something within her stifles. "So Ron's okay?" She feels bad that she didn't ask right away.

"Oh yeah," Suresh looks off to a spot several yards down from Kim. She follows his gaze and immediately brightens at her best friend's familiar bad posture and resting dopey face. She gets up but Suresh gently sits her back down. "He's in a better state than you. Let him come over. Anyways, thank you. I need to talk to the police now."

"Hey," Kim calls out. "What did Drakken say in his letter of recommendation?"

Suresh scratches his head. "He said you're all that many times over, I guess. Anyways, take care Kim Possible. See you this Fall." And then he winks.

"Letter of recommendation? You're going to have to catch me up," Ron sighs. Kim looks up at him and can't spot a single burn or scratch. Before she can process it fully, he continues, "Mystical monkey healing power. Who knew?"

"Is Rufus okay?" Kim asks slowly.

"Oh — um — yeah, he's a little down, the paramedics said he'll be okay but it might not — " Ron's voice rapidly hikes higher in pitch. " — I don't think we should bring him on missions anymore."

Kim nods and the two sit together in silence for some time.

"I couldn't stop Shego, I'm sorry I let you down, Ki—"

Kim's arms wrap around Ron's shoulders and pull him in tight. He flinches and then gently rubs circles on Kim's back. She hacks a lung before pulling back from him, anxiety dancing in her eyes that was already twisting his insides.

"Can we talk?"

* * *

Ron and Kim never really stop to smell the hummus during their missions, so their journey across the stone bridge that links Cambridge to Boston, while touristy, is a treat. Flowing underneath the large, stone bridge is the Charles River, which is packed with families, kids, and college students in rental kayaks. Lots of first dates and day trips. Past the river is the grassy Esplanada, a park that runs along the length of the river, dotted with parks and benches galore. Nestled besides some rustic sections of the historic town, the Esplanade is surprisingly quiet.

And honestly? Kind of lonely.

 **The Esplanade: Boston, Massachusetts**  
 **July 16, 2007: 6:01PM**

After some time taking in the sights, Kim and Ron find themselves sitting on a bench just outside of a playground. They look out at the blue waters, remarking at how the skyscrapers over in Cambridge shimmer in the river's surface.

"I'm really glad you're okay," Kim says softly. "I'm sorry that I pinned you with Shego so soon."

"Uh — it's 'kay. You don't have to worry so much about me ya know."

Kim nods, lips forcibly pressed together. After some time, she recoups. "I know, I guess I have a hard time trusting people — no offense!" she corrects quickly, checking Ron's face to make sure that didn't sting too hard. "Especially lately. A lot of people have let us down. It's — I mean you can relate right? Being scared?"

There's that word again. Scared.

"Yeah," Ron says a little too quickly. He takes in a deep breath. It feels like he is supposed to say something else. But instead he just nods. "Yeah," he repeats.

There's a long stretch of silence.

"I really thought we made a difference during the Invasion, like, if anything good happened then it would have to be Shego and Drakken," she sighs, shaking her head as if what she said wasn't enough.

Ron wraps his hand around hers and they continue to sit there. It makes him feel kind of boyfriend-ly, to do something like that.

"I can't believe they're really back to villainy," Kim looks over to Ron. "You don't feel that way though, right?"

"Not really, sorry," he sighs glumly. He's getting kind of annoyed actually, that Kim won't stop talking about Drakken and Shego. "I mean, Dude doesn't even know my name so to me he's just whatever. Ya know?"

Kim giggles and punches his shoulder.

"Ow! Hey, just because I have Mystical Monkey Healing that doesn't mean — ow! Stop that!"

Ron always feels like he's living in Kim's shadow. Anything he can do, she can do better, and everyone knows it. His whole sitch is so visible to anyone who sees him. At least he still knows how to make Kim laugh.

"Hey, so I overheard you've been accepted into MIT now, huh?" Ron grins.

"Ugh, yeah, I don't even know where these college acceptances are coming from," she says, again, without eye contact. She slips a loose hair behind her ear and starts to say something but Ron ends up blurting out the thing that's been on his chest that day.

"Kim, I didn't get into any of your dream schools!" Ron's chest heaves. "I — all I got into was Lowerton Community College. I'm sorry. You must think I'm some kind of loser..."

Kim's expression softens and Ron has no idea why.

"Ron, that's okay — you wanted to stay close to home anyways, didn't you?"

"Yeah but — um — he — you're home to me, KP."

It became strained again. Kim hesitates and pulls away, hands folding awkwardly into her lap. "Ron I have to tell you something."

Yep. It's happening. Beads of sweat build on Ron's forehead and Kim looks over to him from tens of thousands of miles away.

"I'm not going to college," she says.

It doesn't sound like Kim though; why would Kim not go to college? She is so dead-set on success. So structured and ambitious. Everyone looks up to her like she is a hero — which she is, and she carries that responsibility so elegantly. People all over the world know who she is and want the best for her. So why would she skip college? She's qualified to do anything — is this his fault? Did his laziness do this to her?

Ron's heartbeat picks up as he realizes his train of thought is causing him to miss half of the things Kim's saying.

"I don't know— what — there. Like — I don't know, I never really —all of a sudden — alright Kim, get out — get — job!"

And there he is, sitting there dumbly, probably blinking rapidly, as his mind plunges down three different routes with each new thread of conversation.

"But all I — we — do — is —. — can't — forever — what's next? I don't know! I never thought about it!"

When did she bring her knees up to her chin? Is he supposed to comfort her or give her space?

His hand fling out to grab hers but she gives him an almost betrayed sort of look and he retracts his sweaty palm.

Ron forces a laugh. "Well this is kind of a relief because I don't want to go either."

Kim doesn't laugh. A cold overtakes ron fast.

"Ron — are — listening to me?" Kim's eyes are glassy. "— not —you or I go or not go, it's — future."

Ron tries to blink away the phantom head of Barken that tends to invade his mind in these precious moments. Center cannot hold….

…

This is so frustrating. Kim has planned this conversation out for so long, and Ron is barely paying attention. It makes her angry, and anger makes her fumble her words. She doesn't want that, she doesn't want Ron to get off thinking the wrong thing here. But — gah, this is — what is she supposed to do?

"You want to go college right?!" Kim challenges. She needs him to say yes.

Ron frowns, she knows he wants to say no and go along with this slacker narrative he's painted for himself. But she knows that is so dishonest to who he really is, who he's been trying to become. He sighs and looks away from Kim. "Yes," he murmurs.

"Then go. You should be doing what you want you to, not what I want."

"Okay, KP." No way he means it though.

Kim smiles even though she is starting to cry. They're being civil to one another but this is far from ideal. She wants him to get angry, to scream at her, to fight back or something. It's like they don't even know one another

Ron pricks up. "What — Global Justice?" Kim finds it hard to follow his words. What is he saying? "Can — have that y'know — long distance — " Oh whoa, did he really say long distance? It felt jammed behind a bunch of other words, but long distance… oh Ron. "Oh no," Ron mutters. Dammit, he must have noticed how upset that just made her.

" — Ron, we're breaking up."

This makes sense to him, she hopes.

Ron slumps. " — yeah. I figured."

His voice glimmers in his ears.

"We're not Team Possible anymore, or at least, I'm not," Kim's shoulders sink lower. "I just want to be Kim."

Ron blurts out. "What are — going to — ?"

A particularly painful tear trickles from Kim's crinkled eyes, speedily falling off her damp cheek.

"I don't know."

But he keeps talking like she didn't just say that — like for some reason he thinks she has a plan. Everyone always does.

It's driving her mad — no more. He doesn't get it. She needs him to understand.

"I don't know who I'd be without you," Kim reaches out and grabs Ron's cold hand. This feels familiar enough. "But I need a chance to find out what I want. On my own terms. I know it's vague — and it is vague — but — do you understand?"

Ron frowns. "Kim, — been relying on — for everything — I messed you up —? — — my fault, right?" This is very familiar, but it's not honest. Somehow, Kim knows this.

A misty fog blossoms in Kim's eyes, shrouding them in confusion. All the known expressions and particulars about her boyfriend's face become as foreign and flat as a stranger's.

"Ron stop," she says slowly. "I've been living in your shadow too."

Something within Ron seems to threaten to collapse. "We're — going to — friends —?"

"I need space," Kim says softly, and now she starts to feel disingenuous. She feels something dark crawl within her and squirm to her lips, telling her to lie. But she doesn't know why these things are lies. "But — always — best friends."

A strange comfort lingers between them. Then they both say it for the first time.

"I love — "

"— love you."

* * *

 **Author's Note (April 24 2019)** : " _I'm Scared Too" is a story that I'm really proud of. However there are some things I want to make some content warnings before you start. While this fic starts off very much in line with the original show, this fic is a slooooooooowburn, and Kim & Ron don't end up together._

 _Way down the line, we end up somewhere very different from this chapter. This is a story about a girl who suffers from depression, and allows herself to be strung along by abusers. Eventually, she breaks the pattern and there is a happy ending as dark as this gets. There are references to abuse, self-harm, and suicide. I know those are a lot for some people but I promise I'm handling it with care. Also there's a lot of funny jokes._

 _Thank you so much for your readership. Means the world to me._

 **Author's Note (March 29 2020)** : _Originally "I'm Scared Too" was planned to be a short story that I would do off-the-cuff with no outline, but overtime it very fluidly expanded into something greater. This beast you have open here is just Act One. Act Two takes on a major tonal shift and style change, and I've decided I want to go back mid-writing Act Two and make some serious edits to Act One so that it better reflects the story I'm trying to tell by Act Two._

 _This mostly looks like an overall shift from past tense to present, but I will also be upgrading some passages so that they read better, in addition to adding in detail. After a chapter is edited, I'll write-in with an author's note that it's edited. This isn't a priority for me, just something that's been bothering me for the past year._

 _Additionally, there is an I'm Scared Too playlist you can follow: bit .ly / Im-Scared-Too This chapter is represented by "Breathe" from In the Heights & "We Do Not Belong Together" from Sunday in the Park with George._


	2. All Bad Things Must Come to an End

_CW: depictions of a panic attack_

* * *

"Shego, you have no idea how well that went for us!"

"Yeah, actually I do have no idea because I'm _pretty sure_ that was a disaster. We just burnt a school down, Drak."

"Ey! What do youze two mugs want?"

"A glass of Coco Moo please."

"Oy, Dr. D, they don't know what that — forget it, Blue Man wants a chocolate milk, got it?"

 **Doopley's: Jamaica Plains, Massachusetts  
July 16, 2007: 8:49PM**

Shego hunches over in the musky booth and leans into her elbows. "I don't get it, all we got out of that heist was those stupid Moodulators."

Drakken's eyes narrow, sharklike teeth leering into a delightful smirk. "Which is all that we need."

Shego can only shake her head. "Uh huh — yeah, Doc, sure. Ah shoot, I forgot to order something." She flings her arms over the ripped apart cushion and looks for their bartender.

"Shego, focus up, we can go splitsies on my Coco Moo," Drakken slides the Moodulators halfway across the table. "We are in the middle of the optimum situation."

Shego briefly looks over to the Bad Doctor and frowns. This whole thing feels pretty bad; what are they gaining from still doing this anymore? They both know that Drakken will never take over the world; the Moodulators seem to be a hint towards that. She's getting the feeling that this is one of those in-between "destroy Kim Possible" schemes.

But even that feels wrong right now. Something was off about Kimmie at MIT; Shego's never seen her so livid before.

"Y'know we really ticked off Princess back there," Shego's voice is unusually soft. "Like — not our problem that she expected something so grandiose out of us but still — she was mad. Never seen her like that before."

Drakken shrugs, tittering through the iron hold on his grin. "Well I couldn't be happier. For this to work, we need Kim Possible at her absolute lowest point."

"Alright, so what is your plan exactly?" Shego crosses her arms.

"Oh Shego, how forward of you," Drakken laughs. "If _you_ can't figure it out — "

" — _she_ can't figure it out, I know," Shego sighs. "And that was sure, fine, whatever, back when we were studying teenage slumber parties — "

Drakken raises a finger in protest.

" — but _this_ seems a lot more serious, right?" Drakken's face falls and he considers Shego for a moment.

"This — is to be my life's work, I think," Drrakken explains. "By the way, why do you care so much all of a sudden?"

Shego remembers Kim's emerald eyes staring up at her with such heavy malice; she's never forget that probably. It makes her skin crawl. What did Shego do that was so wrong? She's just looking out for herself is all.

"I don't know," she admits. She wants her answer to be just her normal lackadaisical, non-committal jibber jabber, but — that feels hollow all of a sudden. Sure, the four of them saved the world together but _that_ was literal Armageddon; you'd have to be an idiot to not help out in that sitch. Not Shego's fault that Kim read the writing in the sky wrong, right? Why should Shego care? Why _does_ she care?

Drakken rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know either…."

Shego looks at him severely. "You don't know?! Well maybe you should make up your mind before we go out of our way to break this poor kid!"

"I wouldn't call her poor." Drakken tents his fingers and breaks eye contact. "I've been feeling a little — " the Bad Doctor bites his lip and twists his head to-and-fro. " — about the whole thing, but the plan is good. Buffoon-proof even."

Shego rolls her eyes. "Okay, so what's next in your evil, _evil_ plan?"

"Shego, cut that out, you know I'm insecure about the whole _evil_ thing," Drakken frowns. It's precisely at that moment that the Coco Moo arrives, the frothy milk nearly spilling over the top of the glass as it slides between them. Drakken quickly grabs his straw. "Another straw for my minion please."

"Oh, please, 'minion'!? Come on," Shego groans. "You get so holier-than-thou when you get a big scheme and — ugh, okay thanks," she pokes her straw into the Coco Moo and bitterly slurps in the silky milk only so Drakken can enjoy less.

Drakken frowns. "Shego, be considerate, you don't even like Coco Moo! The second straw was a formality!" Eventually he gives up and slurps the milk in just as hard — maybe even harder. When he looks up to her, his chin drips with chocolate milk. "Shego, a time comes in every villain's life when they need to make a few sacrifices."

Shego blinks. Was he about to give her his own wonked out version of the birds and the bees?

"We've had our fun and everything but if we're serious about — well — _evil_ , then — " He looks off to the bar. From his delivery Shego can tell Drakken probably has a whole flashcard series on this speech that he spent hours memorizing, but somehow he;s still apprehensive. " — we need to do what's best for the _work_."

"The work?" Shego challenges.

Drakken nods solemnly. "Yes. I have several contacts in Europe for you to hit up. It's — "

"You?!" Shego laughs. " _You_ have contacts."

"Haha, yuck it up whatever, but yes. I do," Drakken slides a manilla folder over to her and something in Shego suddenly freezes up. This is unusually professional for Dr. D; she's received 'hit lists' from him that wound up just being his grocery list. "It's all mercenary-for-hire jobs, you'd be a good fit for it."

"Doc, these jobs are a little — " Shego stutters. " — they're kinda dark, don'tchya think?"

Drakken cringes. "Sort of. It's part of the plan, just trust me."

Shego plucks free the straw and cracks open the folder, quickly flipping through maps, profiles, and articles. "This — is a lot, I'll need a few months. And we're talking minimums."

"I know that!" Drakken blusters. "We're playing the long game for once. You being out there is instrumental in destroying Kim Possible."

Shego looks over the folder at the Bad Doctor, scanning his face to make sure he isn't bluffing; this isn't like him. She's being asked to… to kill people. White collar criminals but still. It's murder. For money. "I don't see how but — you going to be chill out here all on your own?"

"Oh, I have more than enough things to keep me busy," his fingers nervously drum against the table. "You're good for this right?"

"Yeah, always." It's not even a question. She's committed to him — if he really thinks this is what will destroy Kim Possible — still not clear about A leads to Z here — she'll do it. She trusts him. For some reason.

"Fantastic!" Drakken says in-between blowing bubbles into his dusty glass. "I'll miss you Shego."

Somehow Shego knows she will too. A slight jade flushes in her cheeks, Shego cracks a grin. "You need me to run Operation Gherkin for ya before I ship out?"

"Oh yes! Please!"

* * *

" _So I got your flight booked. You'll be First Class on_ — "

"Wade, could you downgrade me to Economy? Sorry."

" _— uh, alright. You sure_?"

"Yeah, I'll need every cent I can hold onto."

 **Kim's Room: Middleton, Colorado  
July 31, 2007: 2:45PM**

It's really weird, planning a one way trip for personal travel. She just got her bedroom back after it was destroyed by the Lowardians and already she's peacing out. Boxes are scattered across the floor, but nothing has been taped shut yet; she's still not sure on how much she should bring. How much should live on with her.

It's been two weeks since the break-up and honestly, more importantly, two weeks since MIT. Drakken and Shego are MIA, which is weird for them. The Bad Doctor is usually more flamboyant.

Kim scrolls through the internet while Wade spoke to her on speakerphone she's supposed to be researching apartments but nope — she's reading the news. Looking for signs of the Dynamic Duo and she is… finding things. Scary things.

If Kim's suspicions are right… Shego's… um… killing people. In Europe. Super scary. Kim really hopes that she's wrong, and feels like it's her duty to keep an eye on them. Mostly it's Shego she watches for; Drakken has been dead silent.

Leaning against her desk is a corkboard that shows her findings. Using her lousy printer paired with yarn and push pins is not ideal, but she needs it to be lowkey and cheap. First to save money, and secondly — no one can know. She can't quit Team Possible but keep playing kid detective. Ron would flip if he knew; Wade did. Wade really doesn't like it, he wants to help her move forward with her life. He's a good friend.

So it's not cool that she's doing it — it's embarrassing. Kim doesn't know why she does it, why she can't just let it go.

"I'm low on money as is," Kim says, eyes darting across the screen. "I did make a sheet of contacts I have from old missions and stuff. You know, people that owe me a favor or two. I'd love it if you could fact check that I have the right contact info, Wade."

" _Sure thing, Kim!_ " Wade isn't as thrilled as he is projecting.

There is a quiet lull.

"How's Ron taking everything?" Kim asks, trying to keep her voice crisp and peppy.

" _He's okay I guess — he's been distracted taking care of Rufus so I guess you could say that's helping._ "

"Yeah," Kim echoes. "Rufus is that sick, huh?"

" _Yeah,_ " is all Wade can really say.

Kim gulps. "I hope this isn't too awkward for you."

" _It's fine_ ," Wade says. Another lull. " _Has Global Justice said anything about the battle suit by the way? It kinda stinks that they sort of just took it._ "

"No sorry, I mean — unless you or Ron picks up the reigns, I guess it's okay for it to just be in cold storage?" Kim frowns. "I hope that's not insensitive — I'm really — I got a lot on my plate right now. I appreciate you helping me by the way. I mean, this isn't even Team Possible stuff."

" _Any time Kim_ ," Wade's voice is almost like an answering machine.

Everything feels hollow, like it could snap any moment. It's all so... performative. She leans her face into her hand and looks down at the Kimmunicator to see a concerned boy looking up at her. "Where did I go wrong, Wade?"

" _You didn't do anything wrong, Kim,_ " he says with an earnestness that only a child can so effortlessly wield. " _I know you need space right now — but I'd appreciate it a ton if you would let me contact you every now and then while you're — out there_."

Out there. Such a vague term, but also fitting; she has no clue where to even go once she touches ground again. Or what she even wants to do.

She just knows that… she has to go to Paris. That's where most of this is going down. It's where her Global Justice sources are telling her big time targets in the bounty hunter scene are being slaughtered.

A lot of people could be doing it — but the work is happening too quickly. It's almost… inhuman, and there aren't many people on this planet that fit that description. Kim doesn't want it to be true but… she needs to know. She needs to face her. Help her.

Or something.

As for Drakken, that's even more gray. Kim's noticed a string of robberies for some of the ol' familiar gizmos — but Shego definitely isn't involved with them. Too conventional, but the police reports she's had Wade hack into for her show that the robberies are uniform.

Maybe Drakken and Shego split?

Drakken's not smart enough, nor strong enough, to be doing this though… then again, he does have his weird flowers. Kind of a big leap to take but… she should drop it.

"Okay — yeah, that could be nice I guess, thanks," Kim says.

No one has been blunt enough to point it out, but the dread lingers every time her future comes up. A Kim Possible without a mission isn't a Kim Possible that anyone really knows after all.

"Hey Wade, quick question by the way, you didn't put my name in for an MIT application, right?"

" _No, Kim. Why? You get accepted or something_?"

"Yeah, super weird," Kim frowns. "To be honest, I barely applied to any colleges to begin with."

Yet she's still receiving acceptance letters by the boat ton every afternoon. One batch was even more than Ron got probably (oof); but at the accelerating rate of acceptance letters, it's impossible to keep up. None of the alma maters hopefuls have caught the hint that she wouldn't be attending.

 _Congratulations Kimberly Ann Possible, you have been accepted into Harvard!_

 _Hello, Kimberly Ann Possible. It has been a few months since we have heard from you and would like to know how you will proceed._

 _The deadline to confirm your enrollment with Harvard is approaching fast Kimberly Ann Possible. This letter is a reminder of the financial aid package we are offering you._

All of that just further affirms her desire to not go to college. Weirder yet, she just figured it was because people wanted her. Now she isn't so sure. Apparently someone applied in her name? Who would do that?

Kim thinks about Drakken again. Why would he… she needs a vacation or something. This doesn't make sense.

" _I wouldn't be surprised that some colleges reached out to you_ ," Wade replies. " _You are world famous._ "

"Sure, but the Dean of MIT said they rejected my application when I saw him," she rubs her temple. "That's weird right?"

" _I wouldn't sweat it, Kim. We'll take care of it_."

 _We'll._ Tsch. Yeah right.

Her skin crawls at the thought; what did she do to earn a vacation? Her selfish actions are only going to endanger others, what if a villain does something bad and she's not there to stop them? Ron's not ready to fly solo and from what it sounds, he's still taking missions.

There's this stupendous resentment Kim feels surging everywhere; the more passive her decisions the heavier those feelings become. Even Wade is starting to get snippy with her. At least that's how she internalizes it.

"Wade I gotta go," she says quickly. "Talk to ya later."

* * *

Before he can respond, she turns off the Kimmunicator and slides it into her desk. She needs to get some air. Breathe a little.

"Now these suitcases are the best we have. Three different handles and — "

"I don't know, I'm really planning on not packing that much — "

" — rolly wheels."

" — oh, those are kind of nice."

 **Smarty Mart: Middleton, Colorado  
July 24, 2007: 4:10PM**

Barkin leans towards Kim, walking the black suitcase towards her like a well-trained dog. "Smarty's Choice," he nearly licks his lips at his stellar upsell.

Kim drums the corners of her elbows while mulling it over. On one hand, it really is way bigger than she needs, but on the other — rolly wheels. Very cool.

"Do you have any smaller ones?" Kim asks quietly, not wanting to too-soon reject Barkin's pride..

"Yes, but they don't have rolly wheels," Barkin frowns, sliding the handle back into the case.

"I see."

For someone that she has previously butted heads with again and again, she is surprised that this hunk of a man so effortlessly can cast her into the capitalist nightmare of Smarty Mart. Ordained in an orange vest, Vice Principal Barkin guides Kim through the store like it's some sort of paradise. It's times like these that she seriously wished she had Ron at her side.

Kim of course was the one to stick her nose in the air at these silly bargains whereas Ron was flexible enough to rocket into the heavens at any low, low price. Right now, she wants to be anywhere but grounded.

"Hey, Mr. Barkin, has Ron been clocking in to work and everything?" she blurts out.

Barkin shoots her a look and nods gravely. "Of course he is. Stoppable's been really shooting up the ranks this week. Kid's been selling naked mole rats like crazy."

That's her Ron. But she stays silent at this a little too long.

"Possible, you seem down. Do you need a pep talk? I've got more than a few in my repertoire."

Kim's eyes narrow and quickly wrinkle into the dark rings carved into her face. Her shoulders fall back and she finds herself nodding.

"Alright! So what's the sitch, Possible?" Barkin struts off into a new aisle, adapting quite well to her vernacular.

"Just — y'know, growing up, identity politics stuff. I'm shipping out to see the world."

Barkin glances back at her. "What program?"

"Oh — uh, no program." A nervous red crawls into her cheeks. "Just — uh, kicking it out, ya know."

"Ah." Barkin's thumb glides across his chin and off into a rack of even bigger suitcases. "I remember when I saw the world. It was back when I was in high school. Me and the head cheerleader, saving the world every now and then."

Kim raises an eyebrow; Ron had mentioned this mysterious nugget of intel when recounting the whole _Center will not hold_ story, and passed by it just as briskly as Barkin himself just did. For whatever reason, Kim feels the same reluctance Ron probably did and opts not to press it.

"You know why I was out there Possible?" A suitcase that's heft is inversely proportional to its marked down price thuds to the floor besides her. "Because I needed to. My center — could — not — hold." Barkin twirls the suitcase and sends it rolling into Kim's waiting grip. "But this suitcase sure helped. Only yours for nineteen ninety nine."

"Oh come on."

This is the part where Ron starts tugging on her sleeve and asking if they'd have enough cash for Nacos later.

"Possible, if I taught you anything in school I would hope it would be when to know when a good deal is in front of you."

She instantly pictures Ron and shakes her head. Guess not.

"I really don't own that much," she sighs, forcing the suitcase back into his spot on the wall. "You're a great upseller Barkin, I'd tip you if I could."

Barkin raises an eyebrow and Kim cringes; she has no idea how to make this situation less awkard. This would be a great moment for Ron to make a fool of himself and take the heat off her.

As if waiting for the cue, a spark of blue envelopes the blanched white superstore as Ron's primal yodel of pain echoes everywhere. Barkin and Kim turn towards the source of the shout and both wince as Ron edges out from behind the suitcase aisle, his face beet red, left hand forcing down waves of Mystical Monkey Magic that erupt from his right hand. "Permission to clock out Mr. Bar — oh, uh, hey KP."

It takes Kim a second to process Ron looking at her; her coaching instincts are already kicking in. "What's the sitch Ron?"

Ron's face falls at Kim cutting clean to business. "Frugal Lucre's up to no good — and being really annoying about it." He gestures at his sparking wrist. "But he knows that a Smarty Mart employee can never raise a hand to a customer — regardless of circumstances. Even after a — um — wet willy."

Barkin's finger arches along his stubble. "A wet — willy? How devious."

"That's all? Ron — just chill out, there's no reason for you to lose control," Kim says dryly. This is _so_ frustrating — she already knows where this is going. She needs to frontload as much as she can. "Just call the police. Clocking out to fight him is a bad idea."

There you go, Kim. Draw your boundaries; you are retired.

Ron frowns, jumping as the magic flares off his fist. He stumbles back as he tackles his own wrist to the ground, the energy rolling him across the floor.

Barkin tuts. "Stoppable, stop fooling around. Wait — Possible, you're _not_ going to stop him?"

"From what?" Kim sighs, pretending to look at more suitcases.

"Kim! He's going to ruin everything! Only you can stop him!" Ron briefly flings his open hands into the air before throwing them back down to ensnare his out-of-control magic.

Kim raises an eyebrow at Ron and looks to Barkin who is similarly laying on the peer pressure.

"Lucre's gonna establish a Digital Tips system for Smarty Mart — but 15% proceeds will actually just be wired to his bank account!" Ron waves his hands in the air. "He's going to — "

"Ron. Stop."

Ron manages to flub out a few more high pitch squeals before stuttering out a cold, "Okay KP."

Barkin steps forward. "Possible, you cannot ignore your civic duty.

"Civic duty?!" Kim shouts, suddenly veering into a dark territory she isn't even aware of. "I'm done — Ron is too I think." She looks into his sad puppy dog eyes. "This isn't our job; we're just kids. I just — I just want a chance to see what my life could be."

"But don't you already have a life right now Kim?" Ron meekly gets to his feet. "Aren't you _Kim_ enough?"

Barkin pats Ron on the back. "Possible, don't be a drama queen."

Oh, that makes her really angry. Why are they treating her like this? It's like she's not even a person in their eyes. Suddenly, Kim feels a lot more reassured about dumping Ron.

Ron bites down on something even worse that he could say and lifts a finger, not noticing the blue energy spiraling off of his now lowered hand. "Yeah Kim. There's a right thing. And there's a wrong thing."

Kim shakes her head, not even bothering to make eye contact, trying to distract herself with where she should go next to get what she needs for her trip. "Call. The. Police. This is not my responsibility."

Barkin grinds his teeth. "Possible, you're on the run, I can feel it. I've been there! I've saved the world too and — "

"Yes! Thank you!" Ron cries out. "Dude totally agrees with me! See?"

Ron's blue energy cyclones around him and whirls directly into several aisles, sending a lot of merchandise and all their discounted items plummeting to the floor.

"Stoppable! Clean that up now!" Barkin orders, searching quickly for a broom, as this conversation is done.

"Ron."

Kim's voice is cold and at its razor sharp touch, Ron's energy quells back within him.

"You need to control yourself Ron or people will get hurt," Kim says. "I will not be here anymore to tell you what to do."

Kim's head is throbbing. Despite her short height besides the towering Barkin and the aisles that reach up to the Heavens, Kim feels very tall. Taller than she needs to be. It's empowering.

Was she really that cold? Is this really what she could do?

Kim has more to say to Ron but to say any of it outloud wouldn't be right; not with Lucre's increasingly loud cackling echoing in her ears. She turns on her heel and slips down the next corridor and her mind begins racing.

Kim feels so angry, her ears ring and getting focus on any one thing is impossible. She just wants it to stop. Kim isn't doing this because anyone asked her; she's doing it because Ron clearly didn't understand what they talked about at MIT— which by the way is actually breaking her heart right now, she emptied her soul to him and did he listen? no. — and she needs Ron to see it now. That's the only thing that will get him to leave her alone.

Kim doesn't even flinch when she rounds a corner to find a surprisingly worse for wear Frugal Lucre. His beard and tangled hair matt his oblong head with heavy despair, oversized long-johns and jacket draped over his thin body. But that isn't anything Kim is focused on. She just sees a blur really, a blur that must be flattened.

God — is this what a panic attack feels like? Is this what's happening to her? It makes her want to scream, it's so scary.

"Oooooh! Kim Possible!" Lucre's sniveling tenor decrees as he tents his fingers maliciously. "I've been waiting for you. Heh. HEH. HEH!"

Kim rolls her eyes and takes one step closer as Lucre continues in his monologue.

"Cheer up beautiful people!" Lucre shouts. "This is where to get to make it right! And now — hey, not so close — "

Kim's fist cleaves into Lucre's jaw, sending him reeling backwards. Her hands lash out like whips and grip Lucre by the lapels and with one whirligig of a twirl, Kim throttles Lucre into the air and straight into the freshly polished floor. Lucre opens his mouth to say something when Kim's index finger presses against his lips.

"You're skimming tips off minimum wage workers Lucre?" Kim growls. "Maybe next time you try White Collar crime, try not to do it at the Blue Collar level."

Kim raises her boot into the air and with one thunderous swing, Kim's boot crashes into Lucre's Adam's Apple and his motionless body twists around her foot before melting into the ceramic like a ragdoll.

There. Silence. Kim can focus now. She looks back to Ron, and it looks like he's seen a ghost. For some reason, it makes Kim smirk.

"Kim?" Ron's voice stutters from behind the cluttered aisles. He's clutching the metal shelves as if he needs them for support. Good, finally. Message delivered.

Chest heaving, Kim Possible bends up from her predatorial stance and looks over to her estranged friend, hands still curled to kill. With each pounding of her heart, she feels the same reckless abandon that had just overtaken Ron moments ago when his powers went berserk. Nothing within Kim told her she was going to so ruthlessly take down Lucre; she just needed everyone to shut up when —

"M-maybe you should go," Ron squeaks.

Wow, so Kim's the monster now? Maybe she should bring up what Ron did to stop the Lowardian Invasion (murder.) Maybe she should call him out for making fun of the fact that he's a killer. Maybe they should dig into this right now.

But there are too many things to say for anything to really pass between them; she steps forward and Ron steps back, bumping into the girth of Barkin.

"Yes," Barkin echoes.

Kim looks over to them and steps over Lucre's body, seemingly in a trance.

Ron sidles behind Barkin. "Hey, KP — seriously, don't you think that was a little over-the-top? I — um — Kim — "

Kim reaches up and Ron flinches, grabbing his wrist.

" — we need to talk, Kim, this isn't like you — "

A brown backpack tumbles down from the rack above Ron and flings itself over Kim's shoulders. She pulls on the straps and looks to Ron with dim eyes.

"I am going to do what I need to do," Kim's voice is low.

Barkin sticks his nose in the air. "You sure about that backpack Possible? It's a little small for intercontinental traveling — "

"No thanks. This is all I'll need."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : _This chapter was edited on April 1, 2020. The original version kicked off with a parody of the Breaking Bad episode, Granite State, that focused on Frugal Lucre's return to villainy. But I don't think most readers here get that joke, and it's probably better done as a comic than in prose where it's not as obvious._

 _There are other smaller edits too. Originally, Kim had her scene with Wade in one of those timeshare labs, but I decided to switch it to her bedroom with her 'rents because I think that makes more sense. I also fleshed out more of Kim's anxieties and mental health issues here. Before, I'm Scared Too was about identity, but now it's about gender & depression, so I'm going to reel those themes into Act One whenever I can. : ) _

_If you're following the playlist I made, the song for this chapter is "The Temple" from Jesus Christ Superstar. /Im-Scared-Too_


	3. Siberia in Algeria

"Just remember Kimmie-cub, if you ever need a home, there will always be a bed down here in Middleton with your name on it."

"Dad, I'll be okay. It's not that different from what I've been doing since middle school."

 **Denver International Airport: Denver, Colorado  
August 20, 2007: 4:10 AM**

Ann leans in and gently takes Kim by the shoulder. "It's a little different, honey."

Obviously Kim knows that, she just wishes her parents weren't so… pointed about it. The last thing Kim wants to think about right now is about how she is potentially messing up her entire life on a gamble.

Like — she broke up with Ron for crying out loud. Her best friend since Pre-K, the only person that actually seems to know her well at all.

Not that her parents know about the break-up. Kim knows how much her parents adore the kid, and the last thing Kim needs right now — beyond the reminder of her imploding future — is that she broke up with a pretty decent guy. No matter how much Kim's parents love her, she just knows that there is backlash to come from that.

Granted, she's underestimating her parents. They have to have figured it out by now, the nail in the coffin being Ron currently penciled in as a no-show to Kim's goodbye party. Tsch, it was even before that. A few weeks ago, Kim's dinner came with one plate. Nothing for Ron, and there wasn't even talk about curfews. It was… obvious, that Kim was spending all of her nights alone holed up in her bedroom.

Oof.

And Kim didn't say anything. Now it's a little too late to dig into it; she doesn't want to leave a bad impression or anything. She doesn't want anyone to worry either; she knows what she's doing. Sort of.

Decently enough at least.

"Just be careful out there honey," Anne wedges a hand between Kim's back and her lightweight backpack. "And if you need us to ship you anything, please let us know and — "

"Mom," Kim frowns. "Really, it's fine. I have everything I'll ever need."

Kim tenses her shoulders just enough for Anne to realize that maybe she should let go. Kind of crude, but Kim doesn't know how else to say it, but that needs to be the end of the intimacy. She needs to move on.

Anne steps back and Kim looks to her goodbye party. For a girl who supposedly has everything, she's got a pretty small crowd. Wade, the Tweebs, and the 'rents. Though dammit, it would have been nice for Ron to show face. She knows she was a little harsh to him at Smarty Mart — but what else could she have done? He was behaving like a total — agh, _buffoon!_ , she hates to say it. Someone needs to say it.

Ron can — he can actually kill people. He _has_ killed people, and he jokes about it! No one says anything. No one holds him accountable to what he is capable of.

But oof, it was all nearly one month ago now. It's the longest the two have gone without speaking. Kim knows she could so easily apologize, but that's not fair. Ron will take advantage of it as he always does, and use it as a justification for why he doesn't need to work on himself. Which is not the freakin' point. He's like… an atom bomb that is pretending they're a firecracker or something equally inane.

And Kim won't just let him off the hook just like that if they are to talk about it. Meaning there will be an argument and even further estrangement.

Suddenly Kim will be getting herself some punch at her ten year high school reunion when — _Ron! Hi! How — how are you?_ Ugh.

But hey, maybe Kim's the bad guy. She _did_ break up with him after all, and did in fact time the break-up to follow a _pretty_ traumatic event. For her at least, and Rufus. Oy.

Kim's the bad guy, isn't she? She knows she is — you don't just break someone's heart and keep their boundless encouragement with you. Why would Ron show up? What investment in her could he possibly have?

Still though.

She feels so on edge without him there.

"Kim, I don't care what you end up doing, you're going to end up changing the world," Wade offers a distant thumbs up which ends up becoming a big hug between the two. Not used to physical contact, Wade squirms under Kim's touch before giving into her forceful hold. He starts to say something when a stern TSA agent with black bangs and a shaggy mustache steps forward.

"Could we please move things along?" His voice is nasally and cold, arms folded behind his back as if he were one of the Queen's guards. "You are clogging the hallway and must give passage to others immediately."

The Tweebs are the first to retort. Jim starts, "This is a pretty wide hallway and I don't see anyone else here anyways — "

— Kim had _very intentionally_ purchased the cheapest flight possible which lead to a very undesirable 5:05AM flight with a very obscure and probably unreliable airline —

" — so what's your damage?" Tim finishes crossly.

The TSA agent steps forward to speak when he hears the tutting of his fellow TSA pal.

The other agent folds both elbows to her podium and shakes her head. "Don't you mind Agent Johnson. I don't know what's with him today." She casts a cold look to Johnson. "You gotta chill out., man."

"Whatever, _man,_ " Agent Johnson spits before retreating back to the metal detector, but not before sneering over his shoulder at Kim. Something about the way those nostrils snort with the steady rage of an oxen remind her of someone she hasn't seen in a while…

Then she sees the dude fiddle with something on the metal detector, and she sees the overhead light faintly change colors. Meaning it's going off no matter what.

But Kim needs to pretend to have not seen that.

A familiar rumble quivers up Kim's spine and she exchanges a fast, knowing look with Wade.

Wade nods back. They planned for this.

Kim's heart is already racing, as it has been for the past month. Any other conversation from her mouth in this state is bound to be unproductive. She sighs, and looks at everyone. "I should probably get going anyways — um, but don't worry, I'll call everyone and stuff. Thanks for coming today!"

"Anytime Kim," Wade smiles.

This is the moment, and it's really hard for Kim to hold her poker face and not freak out; she has no idea when she'll see any of these people next. But she needs to look tough, for them. The second she's out of sight, she can go home and sob until her throat closes up. But she can't make any of them think she's doubting this whole thing, because then she'll never leave.

There's a bunch of hugs, and they're really nice and really wanted. But she needs to go.

Kim turns to the conveyor belt and with one swift gesture, slaps the backpack onto it. Followed by her shoes. She straightens her back to walk through the metal detector when a very boyish scream makes everyone jump.

" _KP!_ "

...wait really?

Kim looks back, her waving hands tentatively falling back. It really is him, he really showed up. After everything that happened, he's still her rock. It's… words kind of fail her.

Ron charges ahead and bear hugs Kim, nearly pulling her off her feet. "Shoot, Kim, I'm so sorry, I — I — wow, I'm outta breath. Sorry I'm late."

Ron lets her down. Her eyes fall from his face to his chest. He's in a _suit_ , and not just any suit — his Prom get-up. He took out the froofy thing at least, but wait — oh no, he's not going to try to win her back, is he?

"I'm, uh, headed to a job interview actually," Ron sighs, properly identifying Kim's feelings for once. He looks so lumpy under the suit, she wishes she had time to help him pick out a better number. His cowlick also missed the gel he tossed into his hair. "Bakery gig, uh, early interview, they wanted to see me before it gets busy at 7am I guess, I — uh, Rufus sends his regards too."

Kim frowns. This sucks. She's starting to feel really bad. It's then that she realizes her hands at some point fell into his, and she's pretty sure he didn't notice it either. It's just so… normal for them. "Is he…?"

"He's really sick," Ron frowns. "I'm trying my best, but — um, he'll be ok though, I promise." Ron offers a cheesy grin to seal the deal and then looks at his hands. "Oh. Sorry."

"Oh — uh," Kim's hands fall to her hips. "My bad too, heh, it's cool. Um. So — you look good?"

"Thanks, I — " Ron rubs the back of his neck. "Don't get the wrong idea or nothin' though! I — uh — just need to look good for this thing. Is the suit coming off too strong?"

"A little."

Dang, Ron's face is getting so red. It's probably because everyone is staring at him so intently. Now it's starting to make sense. They're all rooting for the two of them to get back together. Her 'rents have to be in on it, Wade too, she bets. Possibly the tweeds.

That's awkward, why didn't anyone think to tell Kim?

Not sure what else to say, Kim tries something, "Ron, you really didn't have to come here for this, we're gonna talk soon, ya know? You — you should be getting ready!"

Ron chuckles. "Wade's been rehearsing interviews with me — I just figured that um — talking to you would probably help me feel a little grounded — um — not th-that — that that's all you're good for — "

"CAN WE MOVE THINGS ALONG ALREADY?!" Agent Johnson snaps, dangling Kim's backpack past the security check-in.

"Whoa," Ron's eyes narrowed. "Who peed in that guy's cornflakes… whoa, hey wait a second. He looks sort of familiar, wait, Kim! Is—isn't that — "

Kim lunges forward and smacks a hand over Ron's mouth, her chest so close to his. Too close, she should step back. Give him some space, but dammit, he's about to blow their cover. Kim already knows that isn't Agent Johnson, it's actually… agh.

"No Ron," Kim whispers. " _That's just Agent Johnson from the TSA._ Duh."

Lights go off in Ron's eyes and within a few seconds he's on the same page as Kim. He cracks a smile and gives her a thumbs up. "Man, you play it close to the chest — well, um, I still want to be friends, Kim, so when you land, I'd love to, y'know, talk sometime — "

Kim doesn't think that's a good idea, but she agrees anyways. "I'd love to vidchat you and Rufus, I don't know anyone in Paris."

"Paris? Whoa," Ron gasps. "Sorry, I didn't know you were doing Paris, that's — agh, sorry KP, I need to — say something — " He sneaks a second peek at 'Agent Johnson.' " _This is crazy_!" he hisses. " _Kim…_ "

Kim's eyes don't waver. " _Trust me,_ " she mouths.

Ron sighs and shakes his head, working himself into a goofy smile. "Alright, KP — I trust ya. We'll talk soon then?"

"Yup," Kim grins and pecks him on the cheek for good measure. Kind of impulsive, but it makes her feel better about herself. She steps backwards through the metal detector and — it buzzes, yup, but she already knew that would happen.

"A-ha!" Agent Johnson decrees like a thespian in a particular juicy role. "Ma'am, do you have anything metallic on you?"

"No," Kim smirks. "Not at all."

Agent Johnson crosses his arms, arched fingers itching his biceps. "Then we're gonna have to do a pat-down. You sure you don't have anything on you, Miss Possible?"

"I'm sure," Kim growls.

The female TSA agent stands up only for Agent Johnson to hold a hand to her face. "I got this, Sue. Follow me Kimberly."

Almost too angry to speak, the Agent Sue sits back on her stool. "You can always say no sweetheart."

"It's fine, really, thank you," Kim looks into the cold eyes of Agent Johnson and oops, she breaks her poker face by smirking way too broadly. "I'll be fine everyone. Go home and sleep. We'll talk later."

* * *

"I'm surprised at how bad of a liar you are for a field agent," Agent Johnson tutts, pacing back and forth maliciously. "Eh, or maybe I shouldn't be; you do rely on a buffoon and his disgusting pet rat to do your work."

"Do me a favor and stop acting so high and mighty, _Will,_ and take that disgusting costume off."

"I — I — I don't know w-what you mean."

 **Interrogation Room: Denver, Colorado  
August 20, 2007: 4:25AM**

Agent Will Du's perfectly straight teeth fall into their neutral expression, a disappointed frown. His narrow cheekbones peek through the fake beard and 'stache. He rubs his nose and folds both hands on the desk separating him from Kim. "I'm Agent Johnson — I — uh — my whole thing is checking to see if people have metal on them — "

"Save it," Kim clips. "Where's the actual Agent Johnson?

Will Du stutters for a few moments more and after some inner resistance, finally whips off the stupid get-up, revealing his stern yet young face riddled by an already receding hairline. "Home. Drugged him. Not my proudest moment but you left us no choice. It's imperative that we intercept you."

"Intercept me?" Kim leans back in the wooden chair and folds her legs on top of each other. "Will, I'm done. I already sent in my resignation, you're not — "

"Through email," Will's thin lips quiver at the phrase. "You resigned through _email_. You underestimate how complicated it is to quit Global Justice. There's a screening process that takes several months in addition to some paperwork — "

" — I don't care, I'm done."

Unbelievable — but maybe not actually. Global Justice always treated Kim like crap, always condescended towards her even though she's always been better at the gig. Agent Will Du is a joke, no matter how highly he sees himself.

Kim almost wishes she could just tell Will that he's wasting his time — not with her, but with Global Justice. He could be so much more if he wanted to, but he's made himself Betty Director's personal lapdog for some probably misguided reason.

But Kim can't have that conversation — it's not worth it. If it's anything she's learned since Shego & Drakken completely let Kim down, it's that she can't trust people to use her good will to get better. That has to be on them.

Kim makes to get up but Will throws an open hand towards Kim and she freezes, knees slowly retracting back into the chair. She stares daggers at him, this is starting to get awfully silly. "What do you want from me? I'm freelance — I'm not on contract, I don't have any loose ends — Betty hasn't — "

" — that's _Doctor_ Director," Will growls.

Kim rolls her eyes. " — excuse me, _Elizabeth_ hasn't told me anything confidential for civilians, so you can't nail me on being an intelligence risk either."

Will's head leans back in a full-on scary cackle. How annoying. Kim, exacerbated, politely waits for him to finish this nonsense.

"You're forgetting something," Will wipes a tear from his eye, his dry throat hacking into his fist before proceeding. Which is not healthy by the way, but Kim will need to table that conversation for later. "Sorry — I just didn't think you'd be this dull-witted, Possible."

"I'm not — what are you talking about?"

"You _are_ contracted — not to your missions but..." He freezes and limply waves his wrist at her, prompting her to fill in the blank. So Kim tries, she's smart enough to figure this out — what is he getting at?

Kim thinks.

Kim's muscles ache with the pains of missions that would have easily ended the life of anyone else. She's so tired, so over this. The world owes her at this point, for giving so much. Yet somehow that isn't enough, it'll likely never be enough for these people. She's just a freakin' kid and they still talk down to her like she's some kind of homicidal maniac indebted to lifelong community service. What did she _do_?

...wait.

Oh no, no no no no no no. It can't be _that_ , can it?

Kim closes her eyes. She thinks about MIT. She thinks about what actually caused the fire, and she knows it wasn't Shego. Shego wouldn't have burnt down a school, no matter how sick in the head she might be now. It was an accident, and Shego doesn't make mistakes.

So who could have done it then? Who could have walked away and looked at Kim with dim eyes so self-focused that they wouldn't have even realized that it was _their fault?_

The name bubbles in her throat, and stays there. Falls down and pounds in her chest. It quakes in her knees and she almost wants to scream, she should have known. It's not the stupid missions, she's still probably going to be doing those — if she has to be honest with herself — it's the thing that she actually had to cut off so she could leave like this.

"I'm contracted to mentoring Ron."

"Yeah," Will snickers, tilting his head at her. "If you walk away from Stoppable, you will be liable for any mayhem he causes and trust me, there _will_ be mayhem from that lout."

That's true enough; Ron couldn't even handle Frugal Lucre for pity's sake.

"So here's what's going to happen Kimberly Ann," Will gets to his feet and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. Jeez, is that really necessary? What is going to do? Make her his prisoner?

Over her dead body.

Will continues, "You come with me willingly or you can force my hand. Either's fine. But you are not flying to Paris and you will not be for some time. Don't worry — we'll reimburse you for the flight — we know about your financial situation."

Kim twitches, but before she aims a crack at his jaw, she takes in a deep breath. There's a failsafe — Wade helped her put it together. It was a risk, but the two of them both knew Global Justice would try _something_ to keep her. And it's a mean trick, but she _had_ to. She needs to move on, though it does burn a serious bridge.

So instead of giving Will what he wants, Kim smiles and kicks her feet up onto the desk, leaning dangerously far back in the chair.

"You forgot to do your job, Agent Johnson."

Will rolls his eyes. " _Ha ha_ , my disguise sucked, I get it. You don't need to rub it in my face."

Kim raises an eyebrow and pumps her stomach into the air as her fingers curl around the hem of her blouse. "I had a feeling you'd be bad at undercover work like this — you're way too pompous to do the _lowly work of a TSA undering_ , right?"

Will blocks his eyes as Kim Possible slips her blouse off and tosses it onto the table between them.

"You can look," Kim laughs and when Will opens his eyes, he finds Kim clad in a sports bra with her arms folded behind her head. But what really catches his eye is the wire running up her stomach and onto her collarbone.

Kim grins. "Hello? Metal detector?"

Kim laughs and slips the blouse back on, jumping to her feet. "I'll go with you — if you're cool with it being out there that you drugged a government employee, impersonated that same employee at work, and blackmailed a teenager. You'll probably get fired, and I'd imagine Global Justice would lose some major funding."

Will's eyes hold so firmly on Kim. The handcuffs limply fall to his hips, rattling between his twisted fingers. "If your Buffoon goofs up it'll be your head, Possible, not his, and we will find you."

Kim can only smile back at him. "Good luck then." But the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

She's actually not sure how she is going to prevent herself from getting in trouble — unless she can get Ron to swear off ever using his powers again. Fat chance of that happening now that they're about to become farther apart than ever.

* * *

Kim knows how to handle herself on a flight — _usually_. _Usually_ , there is something to do. Like homework, or catch up on her current events — even just hang out with Ron, buy the Wi-Fi plan and chat with Wade if Ron's not avail.

Kim could do that, but the Wi-Fi plan is expensive and Kim thinks that talking to someone is just going to make her feel sadder. So she tries to look out the window, but the person besides her is sleeping and shuts the window. Big bummer.

The person on Kim's right keeps sneaking glances at her like — _Oh wow! Is that Kim Possible?! Whoooooa._

Ugh.

 **Airborne: Over the Pacific  
August 20, 2007: 5:35AM**

As it stands, Kim has no homework, the last thing she wants to do about is current events, and it's well established at this point that Kim doesn't want to talk to anybody.

So what can Kim do? It's a fifteen hour flight.

"Hey," Kim turns to the man next to her. "No offense, but can you please stop staring at me?"

"Uh, are you Kim Possible?" he drawls, leaning back, phone directly in front of his face.

Kim rolls her eyes and leans back into her chair. This is _so_ annoying.

She could sleep but that probably isn't happening either — she's anxious. What is she even going to do when she lands in Paris? Go to her new apartment and… get takeout? Buy groceries the next morning and…

...this is all such a bad idea.

Too late though — she is in the air and even if she wanted a return flight, Global Justice is hot on her heels. She ticked them off, it won't be easy to get out of that unless she does exactly what they ask.

She thinks of Ron's sputtering powers and frowns — dammit. No way is Kim going to take that on again, she deserves so much more, she deserves to live.

But she lied. To everyone. Sort of.

Kim is looking for Shego. She wants to look her in the eye and say, " _Stop — why are you doing this? Come on, take my hand — come back with me. Leave this world behind_."

Kim will go back to Go City and drop Shego off there, then go hunting for Drakken. Same story, she can — like — bring him back to his mother?

Oof, that's a half-finished idea. And she knows it won't be that simple with Shego either.

Kim doesn't know why she's doing this. She just told Shego she hated her, and Kim meant it too. She's usually not that outwardly mean… but she said it.

Kim just wants everyone to be happy; it was all there after Graduation, but those two had to go and muck it up.

Kim closers her eyes and imagines what brought her here. Jammed into her backpack and one of her only real belongings is the corkboard. At first, it was for Drakken and Shego but he has been far more inconspicuous than her.

Kim knows she's right, she has to be right — it _has to be_ right. She can't throw her life away like this if she's wrong.

The news reports all lead back to Europe. At first, the threads were multicolored, now they are all green. She changes them out constantly, pinning and unpinning new ideas. It's so confusing to look at, so Kim decides to use darker greens for older reports and lighter greens for the newest revelations.

It's amazing how linear the path is once you eyeball it — it was those shades of green that made Kim see the truth, that all these assassinations really were dealt by one person. One person with a heart of ice cleaving a bloody path into the heart of Paris. It's a linear journey that does not stray off target.

It's all… connected, and obvious.

Kim remembers her hand shaking out of control as she placed the final lime thread over the heart of Paris. She remembers seeing those burning colors, and how they engraved themselves into her mind. She feels them, the green. She feels it in her veins.

…

Kim stares at herself in the mirror. Shego stands behind her, talons resting on her narrow shoulders, fingers digging deep into the bone, pointed jaw pushing into Kim's fluffy hair.

Gradually, green seeps through into Kim's skin, fracturing her face into platelets divided by dark and light green cracks that glow like acid, that flow like blood. They glow brighter and brighter, creasing her forehead, wrinkling her complexion. They glow so bright you can't even see her anymore, Kim is just green light with black dots moving up and down her like an amoeba.

Like she _is_ Shego's glow.

Shego's black lips open and say things to Kim, mocking her for caring so much about what people do in this world. Kim imagines the scent they must have — pine, she thinks.

Kim wants to object — wants to tell Shego how wrong she is — wants to try that " _Take my hand"_ gambit but she can't quite find the nerve. She just stands there, glowing like a beacon. Shego backs away into the dark and fades. The farther Shego draws back, the less the light shines from Kim.

Once Shego is vanquished in the void, Kim is just Kim. No green, just flesh and bone.

Kim screams —

…

— and wakes up in a cold sweat. She looks to her right, she needs to go to the bathroom, she needs space but — agh, the creepy guy with the phone is asleep and it feels wrong to wake him up.

Kim nestles deeper into the chair, staring at the ceiling.

What if Paris is like that? What if she's wrong — what if Shego isn't in Paris at all? What if she just gave everything up to hunt down what might just be a generic serial killer?

Oh God Kim, don't think about it like that — Shego's not a serial killer, she's — ugh.

When Kim lands in Paris, no one is waiting for her. First time for everything. Somehow, among all the planning, Kim forgot to set up a ride for herself. Then again, maybe that's fine. Maybe it's fine that there is no sign waving about saying, " _Hey look! It's Kim Possible! She just destroyed her own life to chase down the love of her_ —"

Oof, no, that's too real. Kim don't think like that either. It's not about that.

Kim takes in a deep breath, pulls the straps to her backpack tighter, and pushes her way forward.

* * *

Just do one more mission, Wade said. You won't get sucked into an everlasting vortex of missions at all, Ron! It's fine — everything's fine.

Ugh.

 **Drakken's Lair: Mount Tahat, Algeria  
August 20, 2007: 2:34AM**

Worse yet — this isn't even supposed to be Drakken! It's supposed to be someone else, but nope. Freakin' Drakken man, standing up there on a pedestal laughing at Ron. Worst guy to be around right now tbh.

"Dude, your Syntho-Dudes are like — really annoying," Ron growls, pulling his fist out of the hole he made in one of the Syntho-Drones' chests. "Don't you have any other minions?"

Drakken blinks, barely concealing his agitation. "Is that really how you're going to say ' _Hello_ ' to me — um — what's — what's your name again? Actually no. Pay it no mind! You kids these days and your disrespect — "

Again — why is Drakken here? Wade's leads were saying something totally different — something about gangsters from the Bermuda Triangle. Not even close, Wade.

Wiping the gross goo off his black sweater, Ron claps his hands together. "Yeah well maybe try using my NAME for once and who knows?! Maybe I'll be cordial!"

Drakken doesn't say anything, his eyes drift from over Ron's shoulder to the door to his lair, as if waiting for someone better to come out.

Ron sighs, "Besides, it's just me Doc. You might as well learn my name or this whole thing's gonna be really awkward you know?"

"Ooh, is it _really_ just you?" Drakken giggles, wee digits dancing across a metal railing. "You're not joking right?"

"'Fraid not," Ron sighs.

Drakken's head flies back with this scary holler of laughter. But unlike his usual hysteria, he comes back fast, hands wrapping around his now loose ponytail. Very unsettling though — "Well then you can thank yours truly for that." — and incorrect.

Ron _wishes_ Drakken were the reason for the break-up; it'd be a lot simpler.

"Uh — no, it was more of a me and Kim thing — uh — " Ron rubs his neck. "TMI I guess? Hey where's Shego by the way? KP kinda trained me up because we figured me and Shego fighting would be a thing ya know? Is she here?"

Drakken pulls many of his facial muscles to smile as wide as he can. "No, Shego is not in."

Ron hasn't seen Drakken be this cocky since the Li'l Diablos thing — could this be another one of those schemes? Drakken seems awfully confident for something he had nothing to do with.

Ron blinks. "Huh. Well — dang. This whole thing is totes unexpected — so it's just you and me?"

"No. I have some friends who've just been _dying_ to meet you."

Drakken allows one last glance before turning away. He lazily waves over his shoulder and right on cue, a five man squad of Syntho-Drones leap past Drakken, over the railing, and surround Ron in pentagon formation.

Kim and Ron have a back-to-back technique they use for this situation but she's not here right now.

"Dude! What did I just say about Syntho-Drones?!" Ron screams

"Yeah yeah!" Drakken cries out from the shadows of his giant death machine — which is probably another weather related thing. "Give an evil genius a break for once!"

Ron grabs the nearest Syntho-Drone and channels his Mystical Monkey Power to his hands, the sapphire sparks making fast work of the soldier's suit, the material splitting from the sheer power. Syntho-Goo projectile splurges from the Sythno-Drone and promptly burns out a hole in another Syntho-Drone. Both deflate fast and fall to the ground.

"I just think— " Ron starts to say.

Ron vaults towards the next Syntho-Drone, who quickly braces themselves for impact. Ron smirks and channels a spike of power into his heel, the burst of energy propelling him backwards. Mid-flight, Ron twists and throws his once rear-facing foot ahead of him, the boot plunges into the chest of the unsuspecting Syntho-Drone behind him, cutting clean through.

Ron continues, "— for a guy who boasts about how smart he is — OW! Jeez!"

Ron hops on one foot and he tries slapping off the Syntho-Goo that's burning away at his ankle. The stuff is scathing, yikes. Then he thinks better of it. Channeling more Mystical Monkey Power into his foot, the Syntho-Goo erupts in a massive flare that disintegrates the fourth drone.

" — I just expected a bit more dude," Ron finishes, going a little light headed from all the Monkey Juice he's giving himself over to. Being alone definitely requires a bit more gumption from him.

Ron faces the final Syntho-Drone, reeling his fist back for a Mystical Monkey Slamma-Ramma when instead, a gloved hand grabs him by the shoulder, fingers digging into his bones. It's… annoying, Ron looks back and _BAM!_ punch to his face — classic. Ron squeezes his burning nose, and leans back.

"You guys don't get the memo, huh?" Ron laughs. "I'm a Mystical Monkey Master now! Hooowaa!" His hands light up at his new foe, but before the blue glow overcomes everything, Ron gets some good eyes on the dude.

"Of course you'd have time to be a Mystical Monkey Master," Eric, yes, _that_ Eric, cackles, his voice high. It gives Ron the heebie-jeebies. "Y'know, considering that the only girl who could ever love a Buffoon Baboon like you dumped your sorry butt."

Ron's blue immediately fades as all the young boy can see is red. That's fine, he doesn't need focus to stomp this guy back into kingdom come. Ron throws his foot at Eric's chest, but it merely bounces off, thunking his scaly suit like a drum. The Mystical Monkey Power feebly sparks and fades before Eric rolls Ron against the floor and kicks him in the temple.

Dang it — Kim was helping him work on that, like how to channel it right and now he's pretty clueless.

Stars swirling around his head, Ron looks up to the malicious Eric, who pulls off his mask with so much villainous flourish.

"She didn't dump me FYI!" Ron's fingers spin around each other like he's weaving something. "It was mutual!"

"Oh come on, you expect me to believe that?" Eric coyly crosses his arms.

Ron's jaw falls slack as he uses the railings to pick himself back up. "Yes! I — we're adults right? Relationships get complicated, dude! Gosh, we can talk about this later — I gotta stop Drakken from — "

" — taking over the world with my new weather machine!" Drakken cheers to Ron's immediate annoyance. The shadow of Drakken's hovercraft passes over Ron and Eric. "Eric my beautiful boy, you can handle a Buffoon right?"

"Oh yeah, Dad," Eric cracks his knuckles. "I'll take good care of him."

The weather machine whirrs and booms, rising up towards the sky as a hatch opens in the dome ceiling. Ron yelps and tries leaping off of Eric's flat face to grab onto Drakken's platform but he's far too late and can only watch as Drakken's hovercraft soars out of the lair.

"You think you're all that Buffoon — " Drakken cries out. " — except you don't! You — uh — lack confidence!"

Ron heaves a deep breath. "Can't deny that."

Landing back on his feet, Ron raises his wrist to hit Wade up on the Kimmunicator — ugh, maybe he should rechristen it the Ronnuicator or something — but of course Buttmunch McGee — that's Eric — plows Ron to the ground.

"Wade — ow!" Ron screams after another punch to the face. "Hey — Drakken's weather thing — ouch! Stop it man! Drakken's weather thing is — "

" _Got it,_ " Wade chirps.

Ron hears the tip tap of Wade's keyboards even as he and Eric tussle across the walkway.

" _There should be a control panel up front, just get me up there_ ," Wade instructs as Ron pushes Eric's face away.

"Thanks Wade — _DUDE what's your damage_?" Ron shouts. "Your dad's a bad guy — he's like — gonna destroy the world and — _ow_!"

Eric's fists clamp around Ron's neck, squeezing his throat, Ron's hands limply trying to swat the menace off him like a weaksauce game of patty cake. Eric's boot comes to Ron's chest, pinning him to the floor. Ron struggles to look past Eric and over to the aforementioned control panel; so far, he's not seeing himself getting out of this fight anytime soon.

So Ron tries something else. His arms way past al dente spaghetti, he flaps his hand rapidly, working to loosen the Kimmunicator on his wrist.

"You always were a loser," Eric laughs with such mirth. "I could see it in Kim's eyes whenever she looked at you. You were such a baby and she was just so relieved to not be with a — "

" — at least I was _actually_ in a relationship with her — " Ron grunts as the strap to the Kimmunicator curls against his right index finger. " — not just a Prom date."

Eric pulls up his head. "Are you implying that _I'm_ the loser?"

Ron sucks in his breath, unsure if it's a good idea to try insulting the guy strangling him. Eventually, against his better judgment, Ron goes for it. "...Yes."

Eric's tongue presses against his teeth. "I could kinda tell by the actual ten seconds it took for you to say that."

"Ah," is all Ron could manage. He slips his hand between Eric's armpit and like a mousetrap, Eric claps his arm down and crunches Ron's elbow into his ribs, but not before the Kimmunicator flies off Ron's finger and lands on the control panel.

Eric casts a nervous look over his shoulder at the control panel and then turns back to Ron. He shrugs, as if that's not a big deal. Eric opens his mouth to say something else when Ron jabs two fingers into Eric's eyes.

" _Doink_!"

" _Ow_!"

Ron and Eric stumble against each other in a mad dash to the control panel, all the while the machine fritzes and frazzles with every passing moment.

" _Ron!"_ Wade's voice barely carries through the lair. " _The device is not operational_!"

"What? Wade, it's buzzing like crazy! Are you nuts?"

" _No Ron — I don't know why it's doing that but it's not — give me a minute_."

"I'll give you two," Ron smirks and skids to a halt as Eric passes by him. Eric swiftly spins on his heel to keep his eyes targeted on Ron but just as he finds Ron's brown eyes, the kid's foot knocks into Eric's chest and sends him reeling across the room, his body connecting with the machine, which immediately fractures upon impact.

Bolts and gears and wires fly out and drape over Eric as he clumsily falls against the control panel and rolls to the floor. Ron scrambles up to Eric and shoves a hand to his shoulder, pinning him back against the console. Eric's arm limply flap up to knock Ron in the jaw but all of Eric's physicality shuts down as Ron slams his fist straight through Eric's chest and he starts to drain out.

"Dude, you got such a big ego — " Ron chuckles. " — to think that you could beat the Monkey Master."

Arm held square in the hole he created, trickles of Syntho-Goo trickle across Ron's sleeve and burn into his skin; but it's worth it. Ron smiles expectantly, ready to watch that smug face deflate and flop over into an ugly mask. Just like last time, but up close now. Ron wants to see this guy _suffer_.

But instead Eric's eyes remain steady and cold, despite the melting face.

"Wh-what's going on?" Ron stutters, hand curled at his hips. "This is the part where you drain out, dude."

Eric cackles louder than the whirring of the machines and shakes his head, jaw clicking as it melts into an ugly smile, pulling the sack of fake skin taut. When his voice escapes his lips, it's dry with a heavy nasal that cracks with each consonant. It is _uncanny_ at how much it sounds like Eric's so-called 'Dad.'

"Oh Buffoon," Eric sneers. It is _uncanny_ at how much he sounds like his so-called 'Dad.' "Did you really think I would go out of my way to recreate your ex-girlfriend's first ex-BF _just to upset you_?"

Eric rips into another fit of laughter and Ron's fist sinks deeper. C'mon, why isn't this guy hurting? Why won't he suffer?

"W-wait, D-Drakken?" Ron stutters, looking up at the Kimmunicator resting on the console board. "No, what, dude you're Eric, right? Waaaaaaaaade! Eric's freaking me out!"

" _Ron, Drakken lied, this thing is seriously not operational, whatever tech he jacked is the wrong kind for super-villainy —_ _it's some kind of security device,_ " Wade explains, not stressed at all by the freaky Eric. _"It'll only activate if it needs to defend its target from some serious trauma so let's just focus on getting you out of here before —_ "

"Before _I_ activate it? _!_ " Ron shrieks. Why does everyone go around thinking he's such a dummy? This is clearcut — he's not going to activate the dumb thing. No pent up rage, no emotional trauma, done. "Wade, dude! I know I can be a lot but I can handle this."

Ron's sweater wavers with the energy emanating from him. He didn't notice it earlier, but his powers are resurfacing now. He glowers at these feelings and grits his teeth, remembering what Kim told him at Smarty Mart. "I can control my feelings."

"Clearly," Eric snarls before leering back to Ron. "I've been very busy lately and don't quite have the time to bother myself with re-coding my hench people's memories — no, I just did a quick personality installation and here I am. Anything else you want to say?"

Ron's knuckle runs against the steel behind Eric. Sweat mops his cowlick to his forehead. "Yeah, you really messed up Kim, y'know with coming back and everything. We — uh, _she_ trusted you."

" _Ron —_ " Wade starts.

"No, Wade. Drakken needs to hear this."

" _That's not Drakken_ ," Wade's voice is pragmatically curt. " _Leave the drone and come back. This machine isn't going to do anything as is, and this Syntho-Drone can't change that._ "

"He's — not — wrooooong," the Drakken-Drone swings his head along to his singsong tone.

"What?" Ron claps a hand around his elbow, blue light seeping between his fingers and flickering before his eyes. "Why am I here then? What are you doing?"

"You really can't figure it out?" the Drakken-Drone's tongue lashes against their teeth. "Then you must be a _buffoon_ — "

Blue.

No stop it, Ron, cool it —

Purple.

Yes, closer —

Red.

No, not like that —

Orange.

Yellow.

Green.

Crap crap crap crap crap —

Blue.

...

A loud hum.

A _clang! clang! bang!_

Ron yowls as the girder behind him digs into his spine. His breathing is heavy, he looks at the floor, the steel marred by his boots, like he just skidded across all of that. He runs a hand through his hair, and realizes he's holding something. The empty sac of the Syntho-Goo is burnt over his glove. He rips it off and lets it fall to the floor, and looks up. Everything is tinted with blue.

Oh, it's his powers. Like — a Mystical Monkey Barrier or something. Ron eyes it, noticing the spherical shape it took on.

" _Ron — focus_ ," Wade yells from afar.

Ron nods, "Right." He stumbles through his own barrier, the energy dissipating at his exit. He looks at the weather machine now, and — wow — it's in full swing alright. Reacting to his energy, seemingly.

Dark clouds swirl above them, blotting out the distorted heat waves, and a tinkle of a snowflake brushes against Ron's freckled cheek.

"Oh trauma! Like physical! I was thinking emotions!" Ron smacks his forehead. "Y'know Wade, you really could have been a little more specific."

* * *

 **Author's Noten (April 12 2020)** : _In the original version, this chapter cut straight from Kim's interrogation to Ron's mission. There was also a Ron POV split when Kim left the airport. Back then, I wasn't decided on how Ron played into this story and now I know his role, it's super apparent by Act Two what's really going on with him — so I'm fixing that by putting more focus on Kim. : )_

 _As always, bit. ly /Im-Scared-Too for the playlist. This chapter is "Don't Break the Rules" from Catch Me If You Can._


	4. Acts of War

"Hey — uh, KP, can we talk?"

"Ron, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yeah it's 3AM. I know, KP."

"Oh. Yeah, it's like — what? Noon in Middleton right? Well, good for you for looking it up I guess — "

"Why would it be twelve in Middleton — oooooooh. Haha, right. Yes. Time zones."

"Ron, where are you?"

"Uh — Algeria."

 **Kim's Apartment: Paris, France (15th District)  
** **September 4, 2007: 3:10AM**

Kim wiggled out of bed and wedged herself against the cavernous wall, sliding blankets over her lap. Her skin, once soaked in sweat, was now prickling at the touch. She bit her tongue and looked up at the high ceiling, eyes very focused. She should have known that Wade and Ron would still work together after their fallout. Not that there was anything wrong with that — just felt bad to be left out.

"Was this Drakken's stupid weather generator?" Kim snidely asked and heard a skip in Ron's breath.

"H-how'd you know that — d-did Wade tell you? Because I can handle — "

"Amp down, Ron. No. Wade didn't tell me, I've just been keeping track of everything." Kim's knees folded to her chest.

"Why?"

That was a good question. One that necessitated some light so she reached over to her nightstand. "Drakken and Shego seemed really serious back in Boston so — just call it a hobby. It helps my nerves to know. Did you fight Shego?"

Telling Ron about her tinfoil hat theories was not something she really wanted to share with him. But the question of Shego's whereabouts set her heart racing and she knew it'd be a while before she went back to sleep.

"Nah, she wasn't there actually. Just Drakken and a bunch of Syntho-Drones, which I took care of really well by the way!" Ron's bravado was imitation at best, masking something hollow within him and she wasn't sure what it was or if she should even care.

Kim made a quick mental check that Drakken and Shego were working separately like she had imagined. Although after all of Drakken's thefts in the US, it was surprising to know he was in Algeria when Shego was most definitely closer (and capable). Were they reuniting soon?

Kim was pretty positive that Shego's European blitzkrieg had lead her to Paris. She had no leads to go off of but she could feel the woman's presence. As Kim absently scratched some notes down, Ron rambled himself into silence.

"How — how was Drakken?" Kim stuttered after catching the awkward pause that lasted for ten seconds. Meanwhile, she had gotten up and was standing at her corkboard, which had changed a lot since she moved in. The centerpiece of her investigation displayed a map of Europe with a network of threads zigzagging from country to country. The darker shades illustrated the earliest news stories. As the thread moved out, it gradually became lighter until it reached a neon green at Paris.

"It was — uh, good, hadn't seen him in a while so ya know — he like forgot my name and stuff. Kind of a bummer."

Ron's voice faded into a murmur as something caught Kim's eye. She ran over to the window and creaked it open, sticking her hand out the window and catching several snowflakes.

It was September.

Her neck craned towards the sky and found snowfall. Looking down, she saw flurries that seemed like a hallucination after such a sweltering day.

"Ron, what did you do?"

She wasn't supposed to say that outloud.

Ron's voice wasn't supposed to drop so low at her asking that.

She wasn't supposed to be angry with him nor was he supposed to be defensive.

They weren't supposed to argue for a half hour.

She shouldn't have told him to lie to Global Justice about what really happened.

He shouldn't have agreed.

That was all they could join together on.

It was four AM and Kim was wide awake, turning her conversation with Will Du over and over again. How serious was he about hunting her down? Could she feasibly evade their capture? Was that the right thing to do? Should she leave now? Was she really responsible?

Was Shego really in Paris?

Kim's body shook to its core, the antarctic chill vastly overcoming the warmth of the few blankets she thought she needed. She wound up piling every piece of clothing she had on top of her; she would've gone out to buy an electric blanket but it was far too early for that.

Besides…

She was broke anyways.

* * *

"Yeah so by the time I got here, Drakken already activated the generator and the Syntho-Drones kind of overtook me."

"You — Mystical Monkey Master Ron Stoppable — couldn't handle a few Syntho-Drones? Hmph."

"Well they were pretty mean. I kinda sorta knew one of them — "

"Whatever. Cut the jibber jabber. Because something in your story doesn't make sense."

 **Drakken's Wrecked Lair: Mount Tahat, Algeria  
** **September 4, 2007: 10:02AM**

"Oh?" was all Ron could respond with.

Slush pooled at the feet of Ron's boots. The hail that rained down on the lot of them had finally dissipated at the speedy efforts of the boys from the lab in Global Justice. Slumped over from serious sleep deprivation, Ron barely hid his aggravation from Agent Will Du, the last person he wanted to see to cap off his day. But based on how it was probably Will Du that intercepted Kim during her flight — this made sense; it was his duty to be careful here.

Will Du nodded and slapped a hand against the generator. "This is a defense system. One that I doubt Drakken could hack. So something had to set this thing off."

Ron blinked. "How do you know that?"

"I'm a weapon's expert, I've never worked with this one directly but I'm aware of who has them in what countries. Speaking of weapons, your little Nerd friend there?"

"Speaking!" Wade boldly announced from Ron's pocket.

Ron jumped back and fished for the Kimmunicator. "Wade, I told you about listening in on — "

"Where's the battlesuit Du."

Will flickered his eyelashes coyly. "Unfortunately, that investigation has been put on hold — what with Kim Possible's leave of absence — it's not a priority right now."

Wade grumbled before finally going offline. "Sorry about that," Ron said softly, not sure who that was really directed towards.

"Whatever," Will Du scowled.

"Well — uh — there's like big boom marks in it and stuff so — "

"Big boom?" Will's eyebrow arched so high that it truly emphasized his big forehead. He looked over to the other agents investigating the crime scene and briskly nodded to them. Each of them gathered their belongings and headed out the door.

"Um — " Ron stalled for time. "What's — what's going on?"

Will Du's spit flayed in his mouth when he groaned. He snapped into a smile and picked two paper cups of joe off the table and walked them over to Ron slowly. "For you."

Ron pried open the hot lid and peered through the rising steam at a cup of paper bag textured coffee. "Uh, thanks Du but no thanks — I'm not a coffee guy — "

"Trust me," Will Du smiled. "You need it and you'll like it. Now take it."

Not willing to object, Ron took the a sip that last quite a bit longer than he anticipated going in. Pulling away, he offered a suspicious look. "Usually — if I had to — I'd do like — a butt load of cream."

Will waved a finger in the air. "Splash of cream, seven sugars, light roast."

"Huh. How'd you guess it so perfectly?"

"If you must know," and Will Du glowered back at the boy. "Your affinity for those disgusting nacos is alarmingly a key characteristic in your so-called personality. The obvious decision would be to fill your coffee up with creamer — but! No, that cream would dilute most of the flavor and possibly even run the drink cold. You're a boy who likes flavor — "

Ron tried to put a word in and failed, quickly retracting his finger to his teeth.

" — so the sugars were a necessity with a mere teaspoon of cream to keep you happy."

" — thanks," was all Ron could say. "So — why the drama? Can't we just talk like two guys?"

"If we must," Will snipped as they ducked under the yellow caution tape and drew closer to the machine. "It's suspicious — what did Drakken use to set it off?"

"Uh — I don't know, I didn't really know what was going on because I'm — new to this?" Ron's voice squeaked and he weighed his hands up and down.

"After three years you _still_ find yourself new to this?" Will Du pivoted.

"Yeah, hence why I'm quitting hero work too," Ron sighed, the coffee lifting his spirits into honesty. "I only did this because Wade said it was an emergency."

"It's _always_ an emergency," Will looked away. "But whatever. Your quitter friend shares the same lack of moral character — too bad you broke up, you really are _perfect_ for each other."

Ron blushed. "When did you talk to Kim — oh, right. The whole airport thing — "

Will Du's nostrils flared so hard that they black holes they caved out threatened to suck in the whole room. He snorted out an oxen like grunt before smiling. "Careful about spreading gossip, and for your information, nothing happened because your ex-girlfriend blackmailed me."

"What?" Ron clutched his chest, feeling a strange longing to erratically dance on the spot — to do — anything, really. What happened to Kim? Aside from his one phone call last night, she hadn't been taking messages anymore — even Monique shared the same problem. No one in fact had been able to reach out to her since she landed.

"Yes," Will Du said dryly while swatting the machine. He rubbed the metal in slow circles. "Hm, suspicious." He dropped a knee and tapped a screw. " _Very_ suspicious."

Ron crouched down. "What?"

Will immediately popped back into straight legs and frisked the machine to find more indents. "So many signs…."

"Of?!" Ron shouted.

"I don't know," Will laughed in a whisper. "So you said that by the time you got here Drakken had already set off the machine and you were too busy fighting Syntho-Drones to intervene?"

"Y-yeah," Ron cringed. "W-w-why do you ask?"

"Just making sure I have my report down pat," Will Du twisted around the generator. "It needs to be accurate otherwise we'll all be in trouble. Mostly you."

"Why me?" Ron threw out his hands. "It's not like I'm the guy who decided taking over the world was a good use of time!"

"Oh, of course we all know that," Will drawled. "But you don't want to be liable still. You told me the story straight yes? You came in, the Syntho-Drones for whatever reason attacked the machine and activated it — activating it through a method Drakken was far too stupid to know of. That's the truth?"

"Oh, the truth?!" Ron tried calmly following Will around the machine but every step around the cylinder revealed nothing. "Yeah! I always tell the truth — lying's a short game man's, ya know? Haha, yeah, no, no lies from me, no sir — "

He nearly tumbled into Will sliding back to the control panel. Will was leaning precariously against the machine, face upturned to one of the larger blasts in the machine. "I guess — hmm. Odd that there's no debris anywhere. We've been searching for hours and — nothing. All I'm seeing are dents in the machine. But the fractured parts should be somewhere." He leaned over the railing and looked down the seemingly bottomless chasm below them. "There was nothing down there. We checked."

"What?"

"Newton's laws tell us that matter cannot be erased or duplicated; it can only be displaced. Take some notes college boy because you're about to relearn that in your _General Electives_."

Ron's nails dug under the cardboard sleeve to his cup. Did his Mystical Monkey Power do the impossible and erase matter? That was a little unnerving. Maybe he should fess up. Tell Will Du that he had no idea what he was capable of and was too scared to keep fighting over fear of ruthlessly destroying something — someone. It's not what Kim wanted for him but it was time to start thinking about his own wellness.

He had started therapy after all — with Steve Barkin who somehow had a degree in this sort of thing — and it was going along pretty smoothly all things considered.

" _Stoppable, you really need to stop bringing your problems and health insurance card to my house," Barkin moped._

Mostly smooth….

"Anyways, Global Justice appreciates your reaching out to us and would like to remind you to promptly fill out your exit paperwork and mail it in ASAP. By the way Ronald — "

Ron's spine stiffened and flopped under Will Du's vulture like gaze.

" — you owe me two dollars for the coffee."

"Oh — uh — lemme — c-can we do an IOU?"

"...no."

"Oh sure, totally understand—just give me a sec to — uh — hey, uh, Wade! Hey! Sorry about the battlesuit and all, um, can I borrow two bucks?"

* * *

"So you're trying to tell me you've saved the world."

"Plenty of times."

"And you want to work here?"

"Yes."

"How titillating."

 **Crosby's Crusty Croissants: Paris, France (9th District)  
** **September 6, 2007: 1:05PM**

Crosby scratched his upper lip in deep thought, legs carefully folded over each other. He again eyed the strange blip in her employment. In 2002 she had started a Babysitting business which promptly ended in 2004. Without even skipping a beat, she moved into Freelance Hero work.

According to the bullet points, she boasted claims that only Kim Possible could with a straight face. But was this really _the_ Kim Possible? The person he sat across seemed to be; she looked a lot like her after all, but her hands nervously clawed at her pants as if he wouldn't notice. Her smile was forced and her hair was tied back. The blouse she had on was a little too clearance rack and the warm skin tone he saw in the pictures had paled into something almost concerning.

"I don't know if you even are who you say you are, and if you are, I am not seeing the person that's been written on this page." Crosby announced and dropped the resume.

Kim's expression didn't change, but her foot began to tap at the floor like a jackhammer. "I'm going through a life transition — I'm seeing the world."

"At Crosby's Crusty Croissants?"

"Yes. That's what I'm tellin' ya."

Crosby fell back in his seat. "I want to believe you but it just doesn't add up."

Kim furrowed her brow and imagined what she would say to Ron. "All I've done my whole life is go to school and work — I know that this is work too!" she corrected to his pointing finger. He smiled and folded the accusatory finger around his soul patch.

"But a job like this would give me flexibility, I'm hoping to travel and learn on the go."

"Sure," Crosby nodded. "That is understandable. But I run a business and while I admire how candid you are, Ms. Possible I think that — " He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. " — it'd be distracting to have you on staff, you understand?"

She did. Kim Possible distracted her too.

"I'd be good," Kim shrugged. "I can do anything. It's my tagline!" she grinned at her usual joke.

"I saw — taglines on resumes are tacky by the way," Crosby sighed before pulling the sheet out again. "You also emphasize the Heroism job too much — trust me, I get it," he leveled with her frustration. "But you need to balance it all. Pretend it all mattered the same. Let's talk references. Who are these people?"

"They're all people that know me really well — "

"Dr. Elizabeth Director?" he asked.

Kim shrank. Maybe a bad call on that one considering how Ron had just messed up big time.

"Oy — how about this — Steven Barkin?"

Not as bad as Dr. Director, but she couldn't imagine him being eloquently positive in her name after the Smarty Mart incident.

"Dr. Drew Lipsky?"

The name hung in the air, the sharp click of that normal, humdrum name making her feel very hollow. She offered a wearying look and took the resume back from Crosby.

"Why'd you put those names down?" he straightened back up.

Because she wanted them to like her.

"Because they've seen me at my best — "

— and worst.

"Sure, but — you seem melancholy to think of them. Forgive my bluntness, I'm doing this because I care about your success — I can't hire you. I don't think you'd be good at this. Trust me. I'm not even good at it!"

She smiled even though she didn't want to.

He continued, "If you want to see the world — then — I don't know, start a freelance business and keep on your feet. You've done it before. Never stand still or you just might stop. Here." He picked a business card off the table and handed it over to her. "Stay in touch, okay?"

The card was nice but really — more than anything she just needed to work.

* * *

"Hey Ron."

"Oh — uh, hey, Ron."

"How was — um — Albania?"

"Close. Algeria. It's cool. It was alright actually uh — "

"Cool well you left a huge mess just so you know."

"Oh. Uh. Sorry."

 **Lowerton Community College Dormitory: Lowerton, Colorado  
** **September 8, 2007: 8:43PM**

Ron Rieger eyed Ron from his gaming chair with much contempt, eyes tracking him like a horrible beast stalking his prey. Forgetting for a second that he himself had left a disturbing amount of junk food on the coffee table, Ron had left some takeout Bueno Nacho on the table.

"Yeah, I was kinda on a world saving mission so um — " Ron tugged on his backpack straps. "I'll try to be — better about that?"

"You better," and Rieger slumped back over his seat and continued playing.

"I will," Ron grumbled and dropped his backpack onto one of the chairs before headed down the hall. "Hey Rieger, did you feed Rufus and everything?"

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah I fed him a few days ago. I'm busy so I just gave him all of it."

Ron's eyes widened but he didn't dare go back to the common space so he marched back into his room that he shared with Rieger. Down the hall were two more dorms packed with equally aggravating kids. Not that Ron would ever be uptight enough to see them as aggravating. They just — uh — played video games all day and didn't really do much of anything else and — y'know, when you're saving the world and stuff it's kinda hard to come back home to.

"If you're gonna keep going out to different continents by the way," Rieger drawled through paper thin walls as Ron's door slammed shut. "I'd talk to the RA about switching into a single person dorm because I met this cool kid on campus who was thinking of moving in."

Ron sneered and looked over to Rufus' cage. "Rufus, why the heck does no one understand the gravitace of what me and Kim do?! Saving the world is important and like, hey! You wanna brag about how great of a cheerleader you are — maybe thank Kim for not only leading your team but also for saving the dang world so we can actually cheer for someone — not to exclude you little buddy, you've saved the world too — Rufus? Rufus? Hey."

Ron frowned and opened the top to Rufus' case and lifted him into the air, the rat's pink skin paled as he sprawled over in Ron's palm. Moaning quietly, Rufus clutched his tummy and groaned.

"Sorry Rieger fed you all at once, I told him not to do that," Ron whispered and gently massaged Rufus' head with his thumb. "You okay?"

Rufus tried to smile for Ron but it was not convincing whatsoever.

"Ah shoot, dang, he didn't even get you water? Hold up buddy," Ron leaned over and poured some from his canteen into Rufus' water tank, and dropped his little buddy back into the cage. Rufus scampered through the wood shavings and begin suckling away at the tank. Ron hesitated for a moment to go give Rieger a piece of his mind but really, there wasn't a point.

He just couldn't count on him. He couldn't count on — anybody.

"Hey, I got you something by the way," Ron smiled weakly and pulled out a tray of nachos dripping in cheese. Rufus' resulting squeak for "Cheese!" was music to his ears and for the next few minutes, Ron did nothing but watch his naked little buddy chomp down.

"At least I got you Rufus."

* * *

"You know, you make for a really cute boy."

"Oh! Uh — thanks. Ha. Um. So….it's believable?"

"Hm. Maybe. I'll say this — you pass as very butch. Maybe not masculine."

"Would an eye-patch help?

 **Crosby's Crusty Croissants: Paris, France  
** **October 1, 2007: 7:46PM**

Kim Possible was broke. She just scraped by on rent through a humble return to babysitting — but there was nothing left in her account. So there she sat alone in Crosby's Crusty Croissants, head craning up to face the surprisingly helpful in a pinch Crosby.

She already had a strong jawline and Crosby further emphasized it with make-up to give her a boyish shadow that gave the illusion of stubble. Her silky smooth wavy hair had been roughly tied into an ugly knot that seemed to have been strung together by a panicked pirate trying to secure the mast.

Her already small chest had been flattened by a binder and every curve of her body was rejected by a black suit. No tie, first two buttons undone. Thin hands were masked by heavy duty gauntlets that had been broken out by some stranger with a flare for handiwork.

To make the suit and gauntlets match, Kim had gutted the padding in the sleeves, slicing off buttons and fancy cuff-links, sewing the material into the shoulderpads, padding them out and constructing a bolder frame than she actually had.

It was a wonder what you could create after thrifting in the 20th district.

Crosby sucked in a nervous breath and popped open a door, rummaging through various accessories. "So remind me again why you need to go out in drag?"

Was it drag?

Kim took a glance in the mirror and wasn't really sure who she was looking at. Her mind was still trying to parse what Crosby meant when he said "butch" and "masculine." What word felt better?

"It's just a party," Kim responded.

Crosby leaned in. "If you actually had friends who would invite you to a party, I would not be the one making you over."

"Ha ha," Kim laughed dryly, falling back into a brisk silence. "You don't want to know what I'm doing. Honestly."

"Uh huh, very dramatic," Crosby tutted and fitted the eye patch over her right eye —

"Try the left eye."

— he fitted the eye patch over her left eye.

"Perfect," Kim chirped.

"Yeah, I'd definitely run from you if I crossed you in the streets," Crosby droned and leaned over to the clock. "You should clear out, I need to close shop."

"Thanks again Crosby," Kim smiled, jumping to her feet and scanning the shop. "Hey, one day if you ever need a favor — "

"Oh, don't worry, I'm keeping track of all allowances in my planner."

Kim Possible owing someone else an intercontinental favor? Every day was just chock full of surprises.

She laughed and pushed her bangs over her head, neatly pinning them down and out of sight, scooping a navy bandanna off the table as she popped out the door.

"Hey! I was gonna wear that home!" Crosby cried out with great scandalization.

Kim spun on her foot and waved the bandanna in the air as she faded into the darkness. "Sorry I'll bring it back later, thank you!"

* * *

"Password?"

"Swordfish."

"Mm. Okay — hey! Hold on there, I'm gonna need to see your ID."

"Aw yeah? Well — youze know who I am right? Youze know how I — uh — make a livin'?"

 **The Bermuda Triangle: Paris, France (4th District)  
** **October 1, 2007: 10:05PM**

Kim Possible folded her arms together outside the seedy nightclub, flexing her exposed forearms to scare this suspicious bouncer. Obviously, she was not old enough to enter this bar and secondly, even if she were, Kim Possible would not be allowed entrance into an establishment such as this.

Big Daddy Brotherson's operation had been expanding rapidly over the past year or so; ever since the Li'l Diablos Invasion, the crime lord who liked silly games became very well-known in the underground as someone with an ear in every crevice. So building more night clubs was a practical step to capitalize on this.

The whole plan was a shot in the dark, but this was it. She had no money and no friends. More importantly, her investigation hit a brick wall after blazing down several cold trails. If she wanted her venture in Paris to mean anything, it was time to start playing hardball.

"I don't know who you are or how you make yer rent, ha," the bouncer chuckled. "Ya got moxie but Imma need to see your ID or I'm gonna have to lock you up in the playpen, kid."

Kim's face went scarlet and she dug into her blazer, hands snapping for her wallet — and finding it immediately. Growling, she turned the pockets inside out, keeping the wallet clapped to her palm where it was out of sight of the bouncer. "Eh — gimme a sec, Bub," she cringed at her probably comically high-pitched impression at manhood.

Think Possible think. How do you prove you're of age to drink when you're — not?

She cursed her bad luck — she was turning eighteen in the two months but she couldn't wait that long anymore. If she didn't want to end up bankrupt, she needed to tell her landlord that very night that she was going to move out November 1st.

"K?!"

A shrill voice awoke Kim with a start and her left eye went so wide it nearly unearthed itself from under the eyepatch.

Bonnie Rockwaller stood besides the bouncer, grinning maliciously over at her.

"You know dis kid?" the bouncer passed a familiar look to Bonnie.

"Yeah — they are a friend of my _lover_ ," Bonnie prickled at the notion. Lover. What an adult. "Her — _his_ name is Towtruck Stanson, riiiiiight?"

Kim was planning on going with the Impossible Unstoppable but this moniker was probably better despite how dumb it was, so she sucked it up and nodded.

"Oh, why didn't you say so? Come on in pal," the bouncer laughed before shoving Kim into the bar. Bonnie immediately took Kim's hand and dragged her to an empty table, aggressively bumping her onto a stool.

Before either of them said anything, Bonnie had lifted a corner of the tablecloth and scrubbed it against her hand, which Kim's gauntlet had quickly stained with dust and soot. "What are you wearing Kim—"

Kim pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't call me that here. I'm — uh — working."

"I thought you were done?" Bonnie fished for information with more delight than Captain Ahab about to sink his harpoon.

"Sort of, I just have one last lead to follow up on," Kim's eyes shoved off Bonnie and scanned the room quickly. "Just do me a favor and don't blow my cover."

"Your cover as what — a drag king?"

Kim pounded a fist to the table and very clearly got the words through gritted teeth. "I'm — a — bad — guy! Go with it!"

Bonnie rolled her eyes and got off the stool. "Whatever." And she brought her dainty hands up to Kim's cheeks and before Kim could pull away, Bonnie planted a deep kiss into Kim's cheek.

"Oh Bonnie, what the — "

Kim froze as Bonnie's makeup mirror showed her the gothic black lips that's presence on her face added loads of character. She coughed after realizing that she had stopped breathing at the touch and looked back to Bonnie with a strangely sensitive crinkling forming around her eyes.

"You can thank me later," Bonnie whispered and without batting an eye slapped Kim across the cheek so hard that it immediately brought her back to the good old days of Team Possible.

By the time Kim recovered, Bonnie sauntered away, hips swaying in that very short black dress. Kim rubbed the sore spot on her face that she was sure had been imprinted by Bonnie's hand, and clambered back to her feet.

Due to her only experience in romance being with a boy blunder, Kim could not comprehend whether or not Bonnie's kiss was one intended to enrapture her, or if it was just a necessity of war.

She wanted it to be the latter but unfortunately that just made it a lot harder. (To be blunt.)

So stumbling as if she already had ten drinks in her, Kim navigated through the bar, panicking that at any second someone would recognize her. But it wasn't before long that she began to pick up on some _very_ distinct voices.

"Samesies dude! Seriously! It's like she doesn't even recognize me!"

"Yes, the fraulein just keeps on looking over my head like I'm not even there."

"I too, share these quandaries my villainous brethren. But we must remain strong."

Wishing she could handle an actual drink of liquid courage, Kim grabbed a barstool from an unsuspecting patron and slid it over to the villain's table, perching herself right between Motor Ed and Professor Dementor and across Señior Senior Sr.

"Hey, whoa! Watch it du—hey, who are you dude?" Motor Ed wrenched her away and slipped to the edge of his seat.

Dementor scratched his chin, more curious than anything. "Don't I know you from somevere?"

"I was thinking the same," Señior Senior Sr. frowned.

"Yeh," Kim blurted in the deepest voice she could force. Something about Bonnie's kiss and slap combo made that a little easier. "I'm Towtruck Stanson, ya get? You all know me. You all know how I make a living."

The three villains eyed her very suspiciously but it was finally Motor Ed that caved in; no one wanted to not know a guy named Towtruck Stanson. "Yeah dude! I remember you!" All suspicions turned to Motor Ed. "Seriously!" he squealed in response. "This dude's gnarly on a bike! You know why they call him Towtruck right?"

Everyone expected Motor Ed to follow up but he didn't; he instead slapped Kim on the back and barked into the air.

"Why do they call you Towtruck, Mr. Stanson?" Señior Senior Sr. asked.

"Uh — well — I tow 'im up when I fight 'im, ya get?" Kim drawled, trying not to adopt Motor Ed's dudebro talk. Her frames of reference were limited as is.

"Huh," was all Professor Dementor had to say. He took a sip from a dusty glass of milk and shook his head. "Vell — erm — sorry, ve vere just all talking, this is a little uncomfortable — ah, what brings you to our table?"

"Well, I was goin' around Pahr-Ee when I bumped into ye son's lovergirl an' I t'ought I'd say hi," Kim _really_ wished she was of age to drink.

"Ah yes, Junior is here," Señior Senior Sr. lamented. "Not interested in our villainous enterprises, alas. Perhaps you'd do better seeing him. I think I saw him — "

Having no mug to slam, Kim grabbed Dementor's mug and smashed it against the table, leaning in dangerously, nearly frothing at the mouth. "I WANT IN!"

"Okay okay okay!" Señior Senior Sr. said frantically. "Just be cool."

"Yeah, seriously," Motor Ed added as if this were helpful.

When Kim retracted, Dementor snippily snatched his mug back and pushed up his chin. "Are you familiar vith Dr. Drakken and Shego?"

Kim's heart began pounding. "Yeh, of course, kid."

"JUST BECAUSE I'M SHORT — " Dementor started but thought better of it, promptly deflating. "Sorry, I'm vorking on it. Now, as I'm sure you know Mr. Stanson…."

"Please Mr. Stanson's m' dad. Call me Towtruck," Kim snapped.

" — okay." Dementor frowned. "We haven't been seeing Shego and Drakken at the villain luncheons and they've overstepped many of our agreements." Off of Kim's confusion he added, "Such as if the Seniors decide to — ah — invade Svitzerland, I von't. Ve also have some no gos listed in our list of schemes. Like burning down schools. Bad."

"Or ousting politicians," Señior Senior Sr. added. "We villains like to stay in the loop to make world conquering a more easygoing experience but our former associates are now off the rails."

"To be fair," Motor Ed chimed. "Cousin Drew was never union — until the Lowardian jam. Dude showed that he was hardcore finally."

"And then he abused his union card to do — uh — all of this I suppose," Señior Senior Sr. stuck a pinky in the air as he sipped at his tea. "Now Ms. Shego — that's a different story. I made her Union after she tutored my son. But now…."

"Chick is seriously blowing us off," Motor Ed moped. "Girl's not paying her dues or taking our Union creed seriously — hey, dude, are you sweating?"

Kim blinked a few times before wiping her evidently slimy forehead. "Eh — long day wit' da ladies, sorry."

"Hey, dude, can I seriously ask you something?"

Motor Ed gently turned Kim away from the other riff-raff and leaned in so close that the bristles of his mustache scraped the stinging flesh that Bonnie had spurned. "Are you — like — some kinda trans dude? Seriously. It's just your voice — seriously sorry for being invasive but — "

A lightshow went off in Kim's head.

"Yeah!" Kim patted him on the back, "He/him okay?"

"Got it," Motor Ed turned back to the others. "Towtruck's cool guys. Dude just told me something super private. Seriously." And he gently punched Kim on the arm which was — endearing.

Señior Senior Sr. smiled warmly to her and took a sip of tea. "Welcome then. We'll need to connect you with Jack Hench after this."

Kim opened her mouth _not_ to ask about what Jack Hench had to do with this but _to_ ask about Shego when a very familiar voice turned all heads except hers.

"Sorry I'm late fellas, you know how busy we get this late."

The voice was chipper and light, boundlessly energized yet crisp and clean with no funny business. Bony hands patted against her shoulder pads and it was like a worm crawled up her spine.

When she craned her neck back to face the man, she found her left hand falling into the boy's waiting palm. He leaned in and kissed the knuckle of her glove and smiled at her. "Enchanté, mademoiselle. Hank Perkins and you are — ?"

"Hank, that's a dude," Motor Ed interrupted.

"Oh! Shoot! My apologies!" Hank blushed and recovered quickly with a handshake. She looked down and took in his noticeably extravagant suit and freshly polished shoes. When she returned to eye contact, she saw the receding hairline and crow's nest. But mere months ago he was still baby faced. "So don't tell me we've already met!"

"Oh no! I'm Towtruck Stanson, uh, nice to meets yas," Kim laughed.

Hank smiled and glided between her and Motor Ed, whirling his briefcase onto the table. "I'll be back in a moment. I need a drink."

Once he was out of earshot, Kim bowed her head down and whispered, "Is he part of our villain's club?"

"Union," Señior Senior Sr. corrected. "And no. Mr. Perkins is Big Daddy Brotherson's Villainy Consultant — you are familiar, yes?" At Kim's quick nod, he continued. "Mr. Perkins has offered to give us some information in exchange for intel of our own. So we are doing a — how you say — a 'meet' as the boys downtown might say."

Kim became hungry. "So who's trading what?"

"Ha, very to the point, I like that," Señior Senior Sr. folded his hands together. "He's giving us intel on our estranged friend Shego and we are giving him the current whereabouts of our shared former nemesis — Kim Possible."

Kim just about choked. Stuttering through the wheezes she asked, "Where's — uh — where's da kid now?"

"Here," Professor Dementor chuckled. "Ve heard she runs a babysitting business, isn't that crazy?!"

The only way for Kim to keep her smile on was to keep her teeth pressed _very_ tightly.

Hank once again patted her on the back and slid a whiskey sour in front of her before stepping back between Motor Ed and her. "You looked like you could use a drink," he chuckled.

Kim looked down at the drink and quickly plucked out the cherry — to everyone else's amusement — and thought about all the parties she didn't go to in high school. All the drug education the kids endured and ignored. Except her. Little Miss Priss who always played by the books.

And there she was, thousands of miles away from it all, at a bar surrounded by some of the world's most wanted.

Kim Possible was seventeen years old. Two months too young to drink hard liquor in Europe and four years too young to drink in America. No money. No friends. No identity.

It wasn't even a question; the booze burned as it seared down her throat. Like a claw reaching into her and grappling at her heart, squeezing it so hard that her blood gushed warmth through her body. Things became groggy outside but within she was clear.

She shoved Hank's suitcase a few inches away so she could rest her tired arms on the table and pointed over to Señior Senior Sr. "You. Rich guy. I want anodder."

All eyes fell to the gentleman who at first seemed confused. But as Kim's steely eyes homed in on his very soul, he got to his feet and affirmed he would get her a drink.

"Good," Kim laughed and in one aggressive pull, reeled Hank into her body. "So office-boy, less' talk turkey, yeah? Motorcycle dude!"

Motor Ed pointed at himself and mouthed _Seriously?_

"Yeah, youze go first, let's treat our guest right!"

Hank's heart pounded at the sheer authority handed to him.

"Uh, sure, uh — that wasn't what we — seriously man? Okay…." Motor Ed frowned.

"Heh heh heh," Kim croaked and again, pounded Dementor's mug against the table. "So tell me ya mook….

Where the heck is Kim Possible?"


	5. Time Zones

"So…Kim Possible. Seriously!"

"Serious—ly? Okay?"

"Mhm. Seriously. She's here. Seriously."

"Um. Noted."

 **The Bermuda Triangle: Paris, France (4th District)  
** **October 1, 2007: 10:05PM**

Hank Perkins pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back, impatiently tapping away at his still-closed briefcase. "Gentlemen, I thought you actually had the hot goss. We're well aware she's here."

Motor Ed's handlebar mustache sagged. "We got her address, seriously. Kid never leaves home so it's not hard to find it."

Hank rolled his eyes and Kim crossed her arms, leaning back, mostly to steady the flow of booze daring her to go absolutely berserk. She _so_ did not stay at home all day.

"Dis ain't promising Perkins. I'd bail," she slurred under the guise of Towtruck Stanson, a man she was quickly feeling in her blood.

"Tsch!" Hank laughed. "Oh Towtruck. You _are_ new." He cracked a grin over at Señior Senior Sr. "Big Daddy Brotherson is not interested in tabloid puff pieces. Next you'll tell me she's babysitting again, right?"

Señior Senior Sr.'s gaunt cheeks reddened and he rubbed his nose. "It is true though."

"I know it's true," Hank snapped. "But if you're going to bribe me to go against protocol — you _need_ to do better."

Protocol? How would Hank be breaking protocol?

Kim rubbed her elbows and quickly scanned the room. Something felt — off. Since when was Hank Perkins this cold? Yes, the world had changed a lot in the past two months but this as sudden as his receding hairline. What happened to the upstart with boyish charm?

"Mr. Perkins," Señior Senior Sr. snagged Hank's hand, who daintedly bent it into his grip. "You're a villain. You must understand how we feel."

"I thought you had something promising for me," Hank tutted like an evil HR Director. "I don't need to know _where_ Kim Possible is. I need to know _why_ pursuing her is even worth it."

Kim couldn't help herself. "Why ain't she wort' it? I t'ought she was a big threat to youze mugs."

"Exactly. _Was_ ," Hank shook his head. "Wake up and smell the hummus, Towtruck. Kim Possible and her bonehead sidekick aren't worth spit. If we're going to make this whole _evil_ thing work then we need synergy. We need a focused willpower and chasing after teens is so last season."

Motor Ed groaned and shoved a cheek into his glove. "Dude, seriously? We're bad guys. We don't need your wacked out corporate — "

"Quiet," Señior Senior Sr. slid Motor Ed's hand back to the wooden table. "Are we villains if we stay hung up in our old ways? No! I want to learn."

Dementor rolled his eyes and jumped down from his stool. "I don't. _But_ I do vant to know what Big Daddy Brotherson is doing…."

Glasses shook as Hank reeled back in a fit of laughter that almost made Kim, in her drunken stupor, believe that something horrible had happened. But but she pulled herself together just in time to see Hank's head flop back into place like a snake's, his smile perfectly crafted into the villain formula.

"You want to work for Big Daddy, is that it? Sure. Got a CV on ya?"

Dementor raised an eyebrow, waiting for Hank to drop the grin; he didn't.

"Mmm yeah. Not up to par. That's cool. It's normal." Hank drawled. "We're beating around the bush; get to the point."

"We want Shego back, seriously," Motor Ed said. "You have her right?"

Hank shrugged playfully. "Gentlemen, you know what I see in your eyes? Doubt. Oh no — not me — in yourselves. You want Shego to ice Kim Possible. Fine. Whatever. But that's a boring question when we could be asking: Why exactly are you holding back if you know _exactly_ where Kim Possible is? Hm?"

None of them had a thing to say. It was as if they were waiting for dust to settle.

"Ve'd like to see you try," Dementor pouted.

Motor Ed and Señior Senior Sr. nodded in agreement. Hank tutted back.

"Puh-lease. _I_ could take care of Kim Possible."

Kim rolled her eyes. "Lotta talk for an office chump. I wouldn't listen to dis guy, he's all — "

Click.

Cold steel pushed through the knots in her hair.

Señior Senior Sr., Motor Ed, and Dementor all jumped from the table as if a rat had scurried by.

Instinct kicked in and Kim's legs kicked out from under her, left arm wedging itself under Hank's chest, shoving him backwards, his body flailing under her iron hold.

There was a bang and a whole lineup of fancy bottles erupted into a cascade of red and yellow that showered over the bar. There should have been screaming and scrambling but instead the room fell deathly silent as Kim wedged Hank deeper into her hold, twisting the firearm away from him and turning it onto his own skull.

"WHOA!" Kim screamed, catching the glint of the gun in her hand. "YOU—YOU—ahem—youze brought a gun ova here ya mook?! Whaddaya doing?!"

"It's a negotiating tactic!" Hank writhed.

Motor Ed's hands curled against his hips. "Yeah, dude. That's messed up. Seriously."

"Oh!" Hank shrieked back. "As if you haven't tied Kim Possible to a monster truck and tried running her through a wall of fire!"

Motor Ed made to object but had to pause because while he couldn't recall such a specific incident, it did sound like something he would do. But then he caught himself. "But that's not Kim Possible. That's our friend, Towtruck Stans—"

"This is clearly Kim Possible," Hank eyed his audience like a high school teacher with a rowdy class. "No one sees this?"

Everyone shook their head.

Hank groaned and swiped Kim's eyepatch from her face. The villains gasped and leaned in with very narrow squints, all muttering under their breath.

"Oh yeah, I kinda see it," Dementor said.

Motor Ed looked over to Kim like Caesar did to Brutus on that fateful day.

Sensing the comeuppance of a mighty _Et tu?_ Kim finally dropped the smoker's voice, its rasp still constraining her voice. "Sorry guys."

"Y-y-you're not trans?" Motor Ed frowned.

Kim shook her head.

"You would really appropriate queer culture like that?" Motor Ed wiped his eyes. "That's messed up. Seriously."

"Um — " Kim's drunken stupor forced words about queer identity to her lips, words so powerful and so — painful — that it took a lot of courage to swallow them back in. "I don't want anyone to get hurt and I didn't realize Hank was packing. I want to go home. Please. Let me go home."

"No can do, Miss Possible," Señior Senior Sr. frowned. "You don't get that anymore."

You could hear a pin drop.

And a camera flash?

"Bonnie!" Kim's face flushed as deeply as Hank's panic.

Bonnie giggled as Señior Senior Jr. massaged her shoulders. She flipped open the viewfinder and gawked at the picture.

"That is a bad look, Kim Possible," Junior tittered.

"I DIDN'T KNOW HE HAD A GUN!" Kim growled, squeezing Hank a little tighter. She scanned the room and saw a whole gallery of burly riff-raff getting out of their seats, eagerly sipping the last of their drinks. "I'M UNDERAGE!" her cheeks were bright red and it was too difficult to steady her breath. "I'M NOT ALLOWED TO BE HERE! JUST—JUST KICK ME OUT! PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT!"

"You shouldn't have broken in," Hank grimaced.

Kim wanted to give Hank lip but quickly became occupied by Motor Ed, who bullheadedly charged at her, arms flying over her head to ensnare her. Miraculously, the ol' runaround took form for her and her foot connected with the gnarly man's collar bone. He shrieked and fell backwards.

He slapped his own face before diving back at Kim. She stepped out of the way, pulling Hank along with her, not noticing him slowly slipping away from her. She pivoted to kick Motor Ed in the nose just as the gun pushed off Hank's head and to the ceiling —

BANG.

Glass shards fell from the ceiling as a light went out.

The gun arched down to Kim's face but she reacted just in time, pushing the firearm back between them.

"Where's Shego?" Kim managed, room spinning around her.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Hank laughed.

But he didn't laugh for long because — well — Kim vomited all over him and his nice Gucci suit.

Another camera flash.

Wiping the blood and vomit from the front of her suit, Kim screamed. "BONNIE!"

Bonnie's black lipstick pressed together in something so snide — so purposefully mean — like — like the slap — and the kiss — that — that —

— was she attacking Motor Ed?

Kim couldn't remember when her legs had scissored around Motor Ed's neck, nor were there any feeling of her body arching through the air, carrying the rapscallion with her. He stumbled back and fell into the villain's table, the wooden thing collapsing into dust and timber as her body broke from him, tumbling into Dementor, the two of them rolling across the floor.

More vomit.

"Boy, you're a lightveight," Dementor frowned at his ruined jacket.

Kim wanted to joke but there wasn't any time — and her consciousness was only coming to her in flashes. She charged forward and saw — a cane — she was holding — a cane? Wh-why?

"Kim Possible, you are so privileged to think you're above senior citizen discrimination — " Señior Senior Sr. cried out.

Right. Old guy. Cane. Made sense.

The cane nailed him in the side of the head and sent him sprawling; this was not going well.

Kim spun the cane with killer pinash, fending off the eager wannabe villains who saw the opportunity of a lifetime: Defeating Kim Possible. Yet one by one their bodies crumpled with their dreams and she remained untouched.

At some point, Señior Senior Jr. charged at her — at least it looked like him — she thought she heard him squeak something like "I'll finally become a bona fide union villain my fox!" It was all very unclear. Good time to have a historian around.

While one hand clutched her head, holding back — a tide of blood? — her other hand lashed out at the crooks and the cane crashed down so hard on top of Junior's head that it didn't matter anymore.

Then there was silence.

Kim flopped over a table, vomiting more, the cane falling from her hand and rolling away. She grabbed at an abandoned glass of water and downed it fast. But it tasted — dirty? Thick. Heavy? Oh oh oh OH — she tried to spit it out but it was already flooding down to her gullet.

Straight vodka. Either for the hardcore or for the depressed.

She looked around the bar and came to an understanding that whoever this tough boy was — she decked him at some point because practically everyone was unconscious. She clutched the side of her head and tried stepping forward only to flop back against the table.

A gentle hand slid up her chest. Everything was fuzzy and it was hard to make out who was touching her like this, but it was nice and all the threats had been eradicated. What was wrong with relaxing?

Eyes half shut, she blinked through the fog to see Bonnie. Black lips, just open enough to kiss, drifting to her. Tanned hand resting on her hips, a finger itching past her belt.

"Bonnie — " Kim was crying. She didn't know why. This was all happening really fast. "I need help."

"Duh," Bonnie's gust of breath slipped between Kim's hungry lips. "But you're out of time."

"What?" Kim was breathless. She leaned in for the kiss but —

— pain.

Bonnie pulled away, a sad light coming into them, feet shuffling back faster than Kim could process. "Sorry K, but I want those union benefits too."

Warm.

"Wh—" Kim choked and spat up blood, the small of her back crashing into splintered wood. "Y-y-you don't want me?"

Kim's fingers traveled to the warm and brushed the handle of a knife — a knife sheath deep in her stomach.

The cutting ripped apart her innards and branched out through her body, intricate webs of pain dispersing and consuming her. All touched by those gothic lips, all trembling for her hand.

The blue sparks of power that erupted from all over her didn't correlate with this. She felt anger — but she wasn't angry. But the power was a lot and her body was lifting and thrashing like a marionette.

Bonnie's eyebrows rose in delight. "Wow, you really are a freak."

"It's — not — me," Kim tried to communicate but the sparks were too loud to effectively communicate, and then one particularly scary spark carried Kim's boot over her head and through the air, slamming Bonnie clean in the chest, waves of sapphire exploding and sending Bonnie soaring into the pile of goons.

Kim's whole body burnt.

"Ron?"

* * *

"So what exactly is Smarty's Choice?"

"Oh — it's like Martin Smarty's personal favorite. In other words, it's our most reliable product."

"So are you saying that if I don't buy it I'm no smarty!?"

"Huh? What? No! I wouldn't infer that because — "

"Well it looks like you're calling me a dummy! I want to talk to your boss!"

 **Smarty Mart: Middleton, Colorado  
** **October 1st, 2007: 7:11AM**

Blue energy sparked all over Ron's body, energy rising and falling like solar flares. He clapped at the power with the agility of an expert flyswatter, which left him looking quite inept.

"No ma'am, that's not necessary!" Ron gulped, his Mystical Powers failing to dissipate, the magic slipping down his sleeves and orbiting around his body. The thing that he didn't get is that he wasn't mad at this woman; it's not like he hadn't done this whole runaround before. Obnoxious customers were practically the entire job description.

Instead, Ron felt a flurry of emotions that really brought him back to the beginnings of puberty; pain, confusion, and arousal. Was he having a moment or something?

"I think it is necessary!" the woman pointed at him. "You're not even paying attention!"

"I am — I'm just experiencing a — WHOA! MA'AM! PLEASE STAND BACK!"

The woman did not step back because she kinda came into these institutions just to yell at people and sensing a scandal, drew closer. This — was a bad call, because she promptly collapsed at the surge of magic that flew at her.

Ron's foot helplessly swatted at the air, sending off a gigantic slash of magic, the air around the wave rippling and disturbed. But just as it skimmed over the woman's head, it vanished. As if it were never there.

Ron's heart was beating at the right pace, but with the strength of two. He could hear the splintering of wood in Paris as Bonnie Rockwaller was sent flying. How did he know it was Bonnie? Easy. The warmth of her breath. The hourglass of her calves. The effortlessly styled hair. The snide eyes.

" _Ron?_ " It was Kim's voice. But it was only heard as far as his mind.

He felt like an idiot talking outloud to the air, but what else was there to do? "K-Kim?"

A knot twisted into his stomach, doubling him over, a newfound queasiness squeezing his body. The rush of two whiskey sours and a — glass of straight vodka. Weird words that meant nothing to him — but still — the feeling. Dirty. Should of had the cherry as a finisher.

"Kim, I think I'm dying," he wheezed.

" _Talk to me. What's happening?_ "

Her voice was calm as the reassuring hand that had always reached to him.

"I just got really sick all of a sudden and it feels like — like someone just stabbed me in the stomach?"

"Sir! Sir!" the woman called over from the floor. "I would like assistance buying Smarty's Choice! I can't reach!"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Ron held back a flood of vomit and screamed out, "WE NEED A TALL BOY ON AISLE ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN!" He whispered into his hand. "Sorry — work."

* * *

"G-g-got it. Um. Same. To all of that."

Kim really wanted to be concerned with the crumpled Bonnie several yards away. Of all the people to punt like that….Bonnie was probably the most vulnerable. But her eyes were focused on the knife in her stomach that was slowly pushing back out of her, flesh within folding back together as if nothing had happened.

"Bonnie stabbed me in the stomach, Ron. Is that what you're feeling?"

" _Yes, but why would Bonnie_ — "

"Long story, also I'm drunk — "

" _KP!? What the heck!_ "

"I know — sorry," Kim's trembling hands clenched the sheath of the knife, pushing it back with tremendous force but things were quickly becoming a Sword in the Stone kinda gambit because that knife was not moving. "Ron, I think I'm down for the count."

" _Kim — um — are you holding the knife?_ "

"Y-yeah, h-how do you — "

" _I can feel your touch._ "

"O-o-oh, um, s-sorry?" Kim whispered. "I'm — "

" _Kim! Behind you!_ "

"What—"

Without a command from either of their minds, Kim whirled back and cleaved her fist into the jaw of a revived Motor Ed, rays of blue blasting from her knuckles and pushing her back. She wanted to comment but her right foot had arched over her head, knocking Junior from under the chin, another wave of blue rushing from her, carrying the burly boy up into the ceiling before plastering him against the wood.

Visibility was going as the ruckus waged, overhead lights swaying and blue light blurring around Kim in all directions as more and more baddies came forth.

"I can see — how — you — have — a — hard time — controlling — this," Kim spat out between blows. She tried grabbing at the knife but her fists kept twisting into her the offense. "Are you in pain?"

" _Y-yes._ "

Thin arms wrapped around Kim's throat from behind and grappled her to the floor. Hank Perkins screamed as the energy burned him in their tumble, but his hold was ironclad.

Kim screamed as the wood around them splintered. "Ron, do you still love me?"

" _Y-yeah, o-of course._ "

His small voice rattled her to the core. Too numb to feel the teeth biting into her wrist that had been scrambling for Hank's throat. The knife limply swayed with the thrall of their rumble, hanging on by less than a quarter inch of flesh.

"I do too!" Kim roared, managing to backhand Hank, hand spreading like a spider to quickly hold him down. "B-b-but, Ron! Ron! You need to — "

Something awful swam down her throat.

" _We_ need to let go — of each other — now."

" _Why? Kim, come home. There's no reason for any of this. We had it good here, right?_ "

"We did but — y-you're not dying over me, okay? I did this to myself!"

She let go of Hank and flopped to the floor face down, slamming her stomach against the floor, but as loosely as the knife was embedded into her, the sheath wouldn't slide in any further no matter how hard she pushed. Tears sprang from her in spurts. "Please, Ron. Let go."

" _No,_ " he croaked. She battered her body to the floor and felt nothing.

Kim looked up and saw Hank back on his feet, the gun trained right between her eyes; but it didn't matter. He could shoot her into Swiss Cheese and she still wouldn't be the one absorbing the pain.

"Ron." She took in a deep breath, hands still wrapped around the sheath. The feeling shuttered up her spine, clicking her bones one by one until she was perpendicular with the floor. All around her, goons had gotten back to their feet and had circled around her. Hank laughed and slid the gun back into his jacket.

"You lose Kim Possible," Hank wiped the streak of blood from his nose before folding both hands behind him.

Kim closed her eyes. She could see Ron in Smarty Mart, wedged deep between aisles, hidden in shadows as this bizarre pain threatened to kill him. Her voice was steady.

"I'm scared too — "

A staccato of nerves pinching, sharp pain, a flood of toxins back to the brain and a big boom. A hurricane of power blasted out in all directions. As everything was overcome by blue, she watched the silhouettes of the bar slowly crumble into dust. The patrons fell back, wood tumbling on them, crushing them to the floor. Her heartbeat quickened, body helplessly glued where she stood.

Pleading eyes met hers: Bonnie's. Kim looked down to her as she fell and there was a shaking in her chest, not unlike anything she had felt before, and then a snapping. Turquoise light blasted around her in a wave, sweeping over everything that had been toppled and —

And —

It was dark and cold. Eerily quiet. Quaking legs still worked and brought her to her feet, hand curled around the knife that had once again sank deep into its target. Everything was light. This was it probably. The last thing she'd ever see was the Seine shining in the moonlight.

"Ha," she coughed. "I was gonna tell him a whole thing too."

Her heartbeat was fast but no longer pounded with such severity. Wherever Ron was — he was safe. Because he gave her up. If that was all she could ever do —

"I guess it's worth it, huh?"

Her voice shook at the finality of these words that she guessed would be her last, which was when a brutish hand squeezed her shoulder; she didn't look at its owner. It didn't matter anymore.

"Wouldn't that be nice huh? To tie it up nice and clean with a bow?"

Or so she thought.

"Oh ho ho, Kim Possible, I have been waiting a long time to say this: you have the right to remain silent."


	6. Impact

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.

You do have a right to an attorney.

If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.

Do you understand the rights I have read to you?

With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

 **The Bermuda Triangle: Paris, France (4th District)  
** **October 1, 2007: 10:30PM**

Kim didn't move as Will Du wrapped her arms behind her, sliding the clinking metal just below the cuff of the gauntlets. She swallowed more vomit out of dignity and bowed her head.

"Give it a rest Du. What? Did you follow me?"

"Of course I did. It's my job to keep an eye on you weasels," he reached around her back and slid his fingers around the sheath of the knife. "Hm. Rough night, huh?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "I want to go home."

"That's too bad," he sneered, pivoting and landing in front of her in a crouch. Opposed to his usual get-up, he was in a black suit, the sleeves torn off, well-toned arms leading into heavy gauntlets. A beret tipped on the side of his head —

"You're wearing the same exact disguise as me," Kim snarked.

"No I'm not," Will Du snipped. " _I_ have an eyepatch."

"Uh huh, I had one on earlier," she shook her head to Will's scowl. "Amateur hour over here I guess. So what exactly am I under arrest for?"

"Ha, underage drinking for one," his lips scrunched together in excitement. "Destruction of property. I'm sure we'll have multiple counts of assault — maybe third degree murder if we're lucky."

Kim stared hard at the rubble. No signs of survivors. But there was a strange fluttering in her chest. "They're still alive."

Will flinched at the manic belief in her eyes. "I'm going to remind you of your right to remain silent," he tugged Kim to her feet. "You're delusional. Let's go. Oh and one more thing, your most serious of crimes…"

Kim really couldn't think of anything else. "What?"

"Lying under oath," Will snickered, intentionally dragging Kim over a particularly lumpy pile of dilapidation.

Feet stumbling against splintered wood, Kim really couldn't figure when that happened. "Since when?"

"Since you pledged to train Ronald Stoppable so that his powers may never do unworldly harm. But he was never the _Mystical Monkey Master_ , am I right?"

Her throat turned to ice.

"You set him up. You evaded your exit with us so you could get down and dirty with your Drakken obsession. Tailed him to Albania and when things went awry, you called your little friend and got him to take the hit. He covered the tracks very poorly. So yeah, it wasn't hard to figure out."

Kim's shoulders slumped, barely paying any attention to the knife in her stomach; she didn't have much time left.

She grimaced and nearly collapsed, much to Will's amusement. There was a right thing, and there was a wrong thing. She had to choose.

"I see you're taking my advice about silence — "

She spoke quickly and with urgency, as if from multiple rehearsals, but it was unfolding with the click of her tongue. At some point she couldn't place, she became adept at lying.

"It was me. I'm the Mystical Monkey Master, although the monkey part's an embellishment. Made it more believable because it's Ron. But yes, I stopped the Lowardian Invasion. Not Ron. I did all these things but I was scared — my body was erupting with power and I couldn't handle it. I needed help. So — so — well, we all know Ron's a doormat, right?"

Will was put off by how cold she had become, a smidge more confident with the chains he dragged her by.

"We planned it together, and he took the fall. And I ran. It was irresponsible and obviously I hurt Ron badly. I messed up bad and now — I'm down for the count, huh?"

Will Du considered her for a moment, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. He looked her in the eye and stopped walking. "Oh, you'll live. I'll make sure of it."

"Well, we need to save those people over there now now," Kim's voice was hollow. "They're trapped and running out of time. There's only so much oxygen down there."

"Tsch — I'm not falling for that," his breath caught as Kim pulled on the cuffs, the chains between them going taut. His eyes narrowed. "You're delusional. It makes me sad to see it."

"I'm not — I — I feel them," Kim explained. "They're alive. So do the right thing Will. Be the good guy that I wasn't."

Will hesitated. She continued, "You're as delusional as me to dress in the same stupid get-up to get into a villain's club. So believe me. Trust that I'm right."

He sneered. "You want to save them — use your mystical whatever.."

"I — I — I can't."

"I thought as much."

The streets of Paris lit up in neon green light, waves of color surging across the businesses and homes like they were in some sort of tunnel. The light flashed along the walls, briefly blinding the two of them, hot energy passing through tailed by a gust so strong the two of them stumbled. The plasma blast incinerated the chains between them; both Kim and Will fell backwards and the light was gone.

Will wiped the sudden onslaught of sweat from his face and glared daggers at Kim. "Don't you dare — "

Her feet kicked at him wildly, completely out of control and out of form, but with enough intensity to keep the Agent on defense. It wasn't long before she was able to flip behind him and with both hands still locked together, she smashed both fists into Will's skull and he was out like a light.

Adrenaline finally given a quick breath to fizzle out, Kim immediately collapsed on top of him, hyperventilating, the knife twisted about in her body from the attack. She grit her teeth and pulled the bloody knife out, dropping it into dirt, and patted Will down until she found the keys to her cuffs; it didn't take long and before long her hands were free.

Legs shaking, she brought herself to her feet, glaring down at the wreckage. Building walls for support, she shimmied towards the disaster. "Ron?" she called out. Nothing. "Ron?!"

It was over.

He really did let go.

Kinda brought a tear to her eye, as much as she needed him right now.

"Princess, have you lost your mind?"

On instinct, Kim's fist whirled behind her, so fast that her center of gravity gave out and she slumped over before even scraping the precious face of her arch-foe. Shego's black lips opened with concern but Kim's hand went slack to her face, and another horrible surge of vomit blasted between the two of them.

"Hi," Kim said weakly, getting back to her feet, hands pressed against Shego's shoulders. "I'm having a bad day."

"Duh," Shego rolled her eyes. "I'm getting you out of here before you discover what drugs are."

"Not funny."

Her hand wrapped around Kim's limp one.

"So you _were_ in Paris," Kim slurred.

"Yeah, have been, hot sec, guess I shouldn't be surprised you figured that out. But yeah, tailing Hank Perkins tonight. Didn't expect to see you. Can't say I'm happy about it."

"Yeah. It's why I came here but — same honestly," Kim dug her heels into the dirt, arms pulling as taut as the chain did between her and Will.

Shego curled her free hand to her hip. It was at this gesture that Kim finally noticed Shego wasn't in the usual get-up. She wore a crisp and clean suit with a black shirt and green tie, make-up in darker shades than usual. "You know if you don't want me to save your life, be my guest."

"Can you shut up for a second?" Kim jerked her head towards the wreckage. "They need your help; they're trapped and running out of oxygen."

Shego arched an eyebrow. "You've lost your marbles. My first time something like this happened, I freaked too. It'll be fine. Those guys were scummy anywho, and it _does_ make you more interesting but — "

"Trust me."

A strange passing of looks darted back and forth between them before they both stepped side by side over to the wreckage. "I need you to dig your hands deep into the wreckage until you find like — a barrier. I don't really know."

"Whatever, if you bleed out while I do this — " Shego's hands punched through the wood, burning through layers of rubble. " — I'll make sure to tell everyone about your tinfoil hat at the funeral — h-hold on, whaaaaaaaat am I holding?"

"You tell me," Kim coughed.

There was a sound akin to blowing in a jug as Shego's fingers tapped at whatever was stopping her from digging further. "Seriously, what is this? Is this going to give me cancer?"

"I hope not," Kim cringed and then there was a sound like uprooting and things began to move fast. "Ron gave me his powers somehow and like — everything exploded and I didn't know why so I tried to create this um — "

"Oh wow."

"Yeah."

The magic had fortified itself into a solid wall that glowed like crystals.

"I don't know how to control it. I think it's because Ron and I finally broke connection but now it's just — here."

"Broke connection?" Shego could already tell. "About time. I was surprised you even liked boys!"

Kim went scarlet. "He-hey! I do! S-s-some of the time. It depends."

"Oooooh, you're one of those," Shego laughed. "That's the one thing you shouldn't feel bad about, Princess. Gimme a sec."

Shego roared as she lifted it into the air along with the rest of the rubble. "Whoever is down there — out! Now!"

Motor Ed and Dementor were the first to exit, each holding one arm of a conked out Senor Senior Sr.

"Oh dude! It's seriously you! We need to seriously talk about — "

"Shut it."

Motor Ed coughed into his hand. "Okay."

They all came out in droves. Kim tried helping but she was far too beaten to really do any good, so she yielded and let them rise themselves. Each passerby looked at her with confusion etched across their faces; she understood that. She didn't get it herself.

The only person she couldn't make eye contact with was Bonnie, who was probably too afraid to look at her. Instead she kept her eyes focused on Hank Perkins who thumped her shoulder with his as he crossed by. Eventually, everyone was out and Shego was back to form.

"Listen, you muck-ups need to clear out before more police come. We already got a Global Justice worm — aaaaaaAAAAAAAND NO! NO! We are not murdering him so back off you sneaky petes! Things look bad enough — beat it. Now."

Disappointed, the villains all made their exit, dispersing into the streets. Shego shook her head and walked over to Kim. "Happy?"

Kim's bruised hand slid up to Shego's shoulders, clumsily hooking on to her body and leaning her forward. She looked up with crusty eyes and flakes of vomit across her chin. "Do you have any idea how much I believed that you and Drakken were done? Why Shego? Why did you go back?"

"Princess, stop it. You need help," Shego rolled her eyes and swiftly pulled Kim off the ground and curled her against her bicep. "I'm bringing you to a hospital — "

Kim grabbed Shego's cheek. "Answer me. Please. Why?"

The two looked at each other for some time.

Then Kim passed out.

* * *

"Stoppable what are you doing here? You punched out a half hour ago."

 **Smarty Mart Parking Lot: Middleton, Colorado  
** **October 1, 2007: 9:32AM**

Ron's hands clenched at each other.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Um — this is embarrassing but uh — "

He scratched the back of his neck and looked away. Barkin's face fell at the sight and he shoved his line of shopping carts ten yards down the lot into their slot. "Stoppable."

Ron shriveled up and squeaked, "I'm kinda — d-drunk."

Barkin couldn't think of anything to say.

"It's a whole thing — me and Kim were like talking to each other through magic and I guess she was really drunk and — "

"Possible's an alcoholic now?" Barkin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I guess that explains why she moved to Europe…"

"Dude, come on, I'm in trouble! I'm drunk! I didn't want to be — ugh, I can't believe our school's Drug Safety Education had no impact on KP!" Ron shook his head. "Kim's going down a bad road, you were right."

Barkin made the slightest of nods, scanning for some kind of hesitance in Ron's grimace. But there wasn't any.

"I don't want to get arrested for drunk driving on my scooter — " Off Barkin's bewildered expression, Ron jabbed a finger, "Dangerous things can happen on my scooter! So — so — ugh. So...I'm just waiting 'til I'm — sober, I guess? I don't know how this stuff works really."

Barkin let it be. "Riiiiiight, okay. Stoppable, get up, I'll give you a ride home."

* * *

"Hey Doc, someone to see you."

"Okay sure, let them in."

"Uh — it seems kinda urgent. She said pack up and meet her in the lobby."

"Oh?"

 **Middleton Science Center: Middleton, Colorado  
** **October 1, 2007: 11:54AM**

Dr. Possible wasn't exactly sure what could be so urgent now — he hoped it didn't have to do with Kimmie-cub. She had been ignoring their calls ever since she left. They tried transferring her money and the deposits were declined. This wasn't the girl he raised but then again — people change. It should not have been so much of a surprise.

The best thing he could do was trust. So he packed up and went down to the lobby where he found his wife waiting. She stood up, dark rings under her eyes that he hadn't noticed this morning. Her face was exhausted from emotion and could only look at him blankly, quite harassed with two suitcases in hand.

"Honey?" he asked offering her a hug. She meekly reached around and grabbed him tight.

"Have you heard?" she asked quietly.

"No — wh-what happened?"

"Oh, um — one of my patients told me about it before going under," she looked away. "Kimmie got hurt in Paris."

"How did your patient know that?" he asked as she lead his hand to the grip of his suitcase.

"It's bad. The Stoppables offered to drive Jim and Tim to the airport so we're meeting them there — "

"Is she — honey, this isn't a funeral is it?"

"No, but they don't know where she is so — we're going to find her."

* * *

"Sir! Did you see the No Soliciting sign — o-oh. H-hello."

"Good afternoon madam! How's it going?"

"Well I'm doing great now that you're here!"

"Ha! How flattering. So I'm assuming I have your vote this election?"

"Oh of course!"

"Well hey diddly doo da, thank you miss. See ya at the polls."

 **Suburbia: Reno, Nevada  
** **October 1, 2007: 12:12PM**

Jack Hench smirked as he strutted down the front steps of an elderly woman's home. Immediately, one of his aides stepped across the clean cut grass to talk to him.

"Jimmy, hold on," Hench smiled, wrapping a hand behind Jimmy's back. "You don't walk across the voter's lawn. It's rude."

"S-sorry, sir, I — I won't — "

"It's cool, just be careful!" he laughed and playfully swatted the aid's back, freezing at the mailbox, spinning his finger as a signal for the camera crew to cut the footage. Without skipping a beat, he looked at his small army of former minions, all dressed in Jack Hench t-shirts and jeans. "That's how we do it boys. Hop to it!"

Noses dug deep into clipboards and maps, the minions wandered off in different directions, leaving Hench alone with his aid. "The press'll eat this up. They love the grassroots angle."

"Oh yes sir," Jimmy nodded, haphazardly sticking a HENCH 4 GOV sign into the woman's lawn.

Jack Hench, being a businessman, polled really well in Vegas. Reno however, was another story. More diverse and much younger, he needed a canvassing campaign to reel in the kids and he was feeling quite very confident.

"So what is so important you needed to barge into my canvas?" Hench growled.

"Not political but you should read this," Jimmy ducked down as he handed the morning paper to his boss.

Hench almost immediately reacted. "Hot damn! We got this kid signed, don't we?"

"Erm — no, th-that's Kim Possible, she's not really a joiner though — "

"Well that's about to change. Kid'll need protection. Get someone to reach out. Wait — scratch that, I'll do it. You work the canvas, got it?"

"Yessir."

* * *

"Um. Mom. Dad. Why do you have a suitcase?"

"Kim's lost in Paris and the Possibles are flying down to find her. We bought you a ticket."

"Oh. Uh. I kinda — I kinda have school and work guys, I can't — you should've told — "

 **Stoppable Residence: Middleton Colorado  
** **October 1, 2007: 10:01AM**

Ron sucked in a deep breath and spoke in-sync with his parents. "This is our way of telling you."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "Sorry, no, not going. Ask Monique if she wants the ticket or something."

Ron's dad pressed his rough hands into Ron's narrow shoulders and stared him down. "Ron, you know going after her is the right thing to do."

"Ha — it's really not."

It was dead silent in the Stoppable house once Ron's parents left for Middleton High. Too guilty to head straight to his computer, he sat on the couch, twiddling his thumbs, until it felt appropriate to move on.

Ready to squeeze some gameage into his day before headed down to Lowerton, he choked at the sight of his new desktop wallpaper that he definitely had not set up.

It was Kim. Vomit dripping down the chin with the rough texture of oatmeal, a knife embedded in her stomach, blood spilling out of her body. He blinked to make it go away but it remained. Sweat building in his forehead, he quickly signed onto his favorite MMORPG only to find that his character model had been hacked into an uncanny depiction of the same bleeding Kim.

Scared that he was hallucinating, he logged off and just as he made to shutdown the machine, pop-ups exploded on his desktop. Pictures of Kim vomiting. Pictures of Kim holding a gun to Hank Perkins' head. Every time he x'd out, another news story sprang forth. Kim kissing Bonnie. Or trying to kiss Bonnie. Kim beating up a Global Justice officer. Kim working with Shego.

If he had read information this quickly while he was in school, he probably wouldn't be going to Lowerton Community College.

He pulled open a drawer and grabbed his Kimmunicator and barked into it. "Wade! What's going on? Someone's hacking my stuff!"

"Shoot — sorry, Ron, I tried to warn you but you didn't pick up," Wade chattered on the other end. "I've been trying to ward off hackers all morning."

"Yeah sorry, I don't bring the Kimmunicator around anymore — " Ron sighed. He knew he should have asked about how Wade was holding up — considering he didn't have much of anything to do anymore — but he was freaking too hard. "What happened to Kim?"

"Um — I hate to say it Ron but — that is Kim. For sure," Wade sighed. "I'm sorry."

Ron's lips moved soundlessly, his heart racing and eyes widening. He glanced back at the screen and felt a painful spark in his chest.

FORMER TEEN HERO, NOW FUGITIVE, KIM POSSIBLE, IDENTIFIED AS MYSTICAL MAGIC USER, BE ON THE LOOKOUT

The Kimmunicator clattered to the floorboards.

* * *

"Du. Du. Ugh. Agent Will Du, snap to it!"

"Wha—oh—oh! S-sorry, what — where's — "

"Gone. I got nervous when you didn't call in the arrest. What happened?"

 **The Bermuda Triangle: Paris, France (4th District)**

 **October 2, 2007: 1:15AM**

Will Du rubbed his pounding head and looked around warily. A lot had changed since Kim conked him out. Except it looked like the rubble of The Bermuda Triangle had been disturbed. Like someone shoveled it over. But more notably, resting on top of the despair was a giant sheet of blue — something.

"I'm not sure — she was babbling about some mystical garbage and then this weird plasma blast knocked us apart and before I knew it she just went for it."

Dr. Betty Director looked down coolly. "Went for what?"

"Me," he got up and rubbed his cheeks. "Didn't think she had it in her. So she must be working with Shego right?"

"It would check out," Betty sighed. "What is that?"

Will looked over at the blue light and finally got to his feet. "Not a clue."

They both walked over it. Betty hung back at a safe distance while Will rubbed a gauntlet over the surface. He squeezed at it with all his might, but the thing was so dense it almost felt like his fingers were feet apart; there was nothing else like it. "Still no clue. I'll call the boys in to take it to the lab. We could probably use it."

"Agreed," Betty's arms were crossed. "I have a gift for you by the way." Hands gripped at her lapels and peeled back the front of her jacket to show off a white battlesuit with two blue stripes running parallel down her torso.

Will placed a hand to his chest and struggled to stay conscious. "O-oh — this — this is wonderful."

"Mhm," Betty smirked. "Tested and functional, ready to see the world. Patents and all. You'll need it."


	7. The Green Fig Tree

Dark.

Deep down in dark.

Like floating but with unfathomable pressure pinning her to the abyss.

" _His medulla oblongata tells her brain stem that she's gotta…"_

She had been to this place before. Sort of. Usually during the harder missions. But back then when she plunged there were shimmering lines of light leading her home. But this was just black. Totally directionless. All consuming.

" _Send an impulse of data, which creates a lotta pain!_ "

Was she dead? There was a voice singing that most certainly wasn't hers.

It was — cheery?

Who could possibly be happy right now? Her life just imploded in a matter of hours.

Life — she really wished she could just die. Perish as a hack, a loser who couldn't take the pressure anymore. It'd make her easier to forget about.

" _Her front lobe gets busy with a thought that makes her dizzy, puts her cortex in a tizzy, so she never vill complain!_ "

A white light came into focus, a blur then clear and real, rapidly growing with time.

She wasn't ready.

" _That's vhat I love about the Brain!_ "

…

…

 **?: Paris, France (? District)  
** **October ?, 2007: ?:?**

"Professor Dementor?"

"ACK!"

Professor Dementor was stooped over her, thread caught between his teeth, her own body curled against a bed, stomach hot, like it was cauterized. Before she could take in any more details, a fist decked her so hard that she fell back into darkness.

* * *

Kim awoke later, body sinking into the cushion of a queen sized bed, back propped up against a mountain of pillows. She scanned the room fast and found herself in the lap of luxury. A massive loft that seemed more hotel than home, but it was too lived in to be that.

She made to get up but a searing pain from her abdomen forced her back down.

She winced, trying to calculate what the heck had brought her to this place. Wherever it was.

Boy drag. Bermuda Triangle. Towtruck. Bad guys. Bonnie. Kiss. Stab. Vomit. Blood. Boom. Du. Handcuffs. Shego.

Right.

Up to speed.

Groaning, she pulled back the blanket and gasped at the sight of a scar that ran across her abdomen like a canyon did to a map. She ran a finger across the surface and twitched as her prints brushed over sutures. It was then that she caught herself panting.

While she couldn't see it, her warm skin tone had paled, body hollow from what felt like days without food or water. She spotted a tray besides her and immediately plowed into it, guzzling down water while tearing the tinfoil sheet off her breakfast: fried eggs and bacon with toast. It was the most delicious thing she had since she moved to Paris.

It wasn't until she was wiping the crumbs off her lap that she saw the note.

" _Hey champ. Demenz says sorry about smacking you; he panicked evidently. Surgery's new for him. If you ever go back to heroing, Kimmie, I'd highly recommend nixing the crop-top look." - S_

 **Shego's Loft: Paris, France (? District)  
** **October ?, 2007: ?:?**

It wasn't before long that Kim's energy left her and she plunged right back into the darkness, this time with a little more security.

The shrill shout of a black cat was the next thing to pull Kim back into the life. It took far too long to process what the creature was. She backed into the pillows and curled her fingers behind the feline's ears. Evidently, it had taken a liking to her lap while she slept.

She looked around for any signs of change and saw none. It was impossible to tell how long had it had been since she passed out. A few hours? A day? Days?

"What's wrong buddy?" Kim smiled.

The cat moaned again, a distant look in her eyes as she gazed out the window.

Kim switched to a chin rub and found it much more effective. She could feel the purring in her own chest. "You hungry? Me too. Let's get some food."

Getting up from bed so fast quickly made her go light-headed. She wanted to sit back down but the cat had taken the initiative, feet pattering across the floor as it lead her over to the food bowl. A demanding meow this time. Not wanting to disappoint, Kim trudged along.

Meow meow meow.

Kim chuckled and reached up to the cupboard over the bowl and found the cat food with ease. The second her hand wrinkled the plastic, the cat trilled and began popping figure eights at her angles. Never having taken care of a pet, she poured an arbitrary amount of dry food into the bowl. The trilling stopped and the cat shoved her head into the bowl.

Kim's smile faded fast. "Hello? Anyone home?" Nothing but echoes.

What caught her eye next was the stunning view of Paris she had from the window. So many roofs with such regal architecture, lively trees wavering in the wind. She could see for miles.

 **Shego's Loft: Paris, France (6th District)  
** **October ?, 2007: ?:?**

Not wanting to waste time, Kim rushed to the door and tried to open it. But no matter how she fiddled away with the locks, the heavy slab of wood wouldn't budge. Shoulders sagging, she checked for anything that could be helpful right now. But the only technology was a clock. No television, no radio, no phone, no nothing.

"Dang," Kim ran her fingers through her hair. "Think Kim, think — "

A little head bumped against her ankle. Kim stooped down and found another little gray cat. He looked morosely over to the food bowl where the black cat was trying to push the head of a tabby away, the bowl too small for both of them.

"How many cats does she have?"

She tried climbing out the window but it was way too dangerous with her total lack of equipment — plus her poor health. So she made the most of it, quickly falling into a regular schedule. Wake up, feed cats, eat, litter box, read, work out, play, read, work out, play, eat, cat stuff, clean, sleep.

The routine developed fast and she quickly learned to tell time (roughly) by looking up at the sky. For instance, on the fourth day she looked up to the sky and found the sun shining at an extremely sharp angle that just skimmed along the Seine, popping along like a skipping stone.

 **Shego's Loft: Paris, France (6th District)  
** **October x + 4, 2007: 6:31AM**

The cats got plenty of play time out of her. All of them seemed a little worse for wear, some of them with holes in their ears, others with malformed paws. Each had strong personalities, the cats all emerging as individuals by the end of the second day, although she still could not keep track of how many there were. At least seven. It felt like a new one popped up every day.

Each cat was as different as Shego was to Ron. Or more like — Shego and Frugal Lucre. Ron actually had a spine.

Sometimes she felt sad about Ron. She wished she could call him — but even that might be invasive. Dumping all your feelings onto someone is unhealthy and while she really did not want to mind meld with him that day at the bar, it felt akin to a drunk dial.

The bulk of her days were spent brushing up on her reading. For whatever reason, she was floored by Shego's hyper feminist collection of lit. Stuff like Kate Chopin's _The Awakening,_ Sylvia Plath's _The Bell Jar_ , and Virginia Woolf's _Orlando_. She even had Audre Lorde's _Zami: A New Spelling of My Name_. It was nice to read and for a little bit, she could pretend that she wasn't holed up in some strange apartment with no human contact.

After a particularly rough work-out session abruptly ended with rage, her filthy clothes holding her back from doing anything physical, Kim worked up the courage to trash those rags and use Shego's shower. Of course the green lady only had the finest selection of toiletries and after an hour Kim emerged from the steam a new woman.

Not willing to wear the vomit stained and bloody suit again, Kim wrapped herself up in a towel and prepared herself for — well, anything — and stepped into Shego's room.

Expecting some sort of doomsday trap to kill her upon entering, Kim was relieved that the only unusual thing about the room was that Shego lived like the one percent. Really, this loft was a palace.

Kim peeled back outfit after outfit, disturbed by the steep price tags that had to have been attached to all these outfits at one point. After some time passed, she settled for a butch look with flannel and jeans.

Each day, Kim tried a new makeup and outfit combination. For the first time since Graduation, Kim was really feeling herself.

Bubblegum pink lipstick matched her eye shadow, eyeliner curling into cat ears. Hair elegantly curled into neat waves, much of the volume pinned back into a bun that was hidden from sight by the long locks. A navy blouse over a stiff white dress shirt, checker-print skirt pulled up past her stomach, Kim lounged on the couch, reading Sylvia Plath's _Ariel_.

She was a few poems away from finishing the collection when her solitude came to an end.

Rattle rattle. Click.

Turn turn turn click.

Slide.

Click click click ca-chink.

Ding ding ding ding beeeeep.

Rattle rattle rattle rattle click.

Meow meow meow meow meow meow wait. Only six cats.

The door creaked open and snapped like a mousetrap as Shego's boot lifted one of her cats by the tummy, dropping him away from the exit. Blazer flung over her shoulder, she frowned deeply at the sight of Kim in her clothes. "How you feeling, Princess?"

"Good," Kim slapped the poetry collection to the glass table and slid in a bookmark before getting up. "Where were you? What's going on? Why am I here and not — "

"Ugh, one at a time, you're stressing me out," Shego shook her head, dropping the blazer to the floor and marching over to the sink. "I was in Spain. Big Daddy needed me out there for some crud you'd rather not know about."

Kim crossed her arms. "I think I do want to know — and what?! Big Daddy? Like — Brotherson? I thought you worked for Drakken. Are you not — "

Shego whirled around and pressed an index finger to Kim's lips, other fingers flapping across her temple. "Oy, seriously. Slow down. I've been in Europe because Doctor D planted me here. Gave me a list of jobs — still doin' 'em actually but he stopped taking messages from me a few weeks ago. So I figured I'd pick up a new hustle just in case we are done."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you obviously already knew that."

"Fair," Kim arched an eyebrow. "Did you have anything to do with the weather machine in Algeria?"

"What?" Shego slipped a very old piece of pizza from the fridge and chomped on it. "Nah. What are you talking about?"

"Got it, um, okay," Kim frowned. Her mind sorted through the jumble to find a tangible question but so much was buzzing through her at once.

"So are you like some kind of lesbian now?" Shego observed, the crust of the pizza sticking out of her mouth like a cigar.

Kim blushed again and grabbed her shoulders. "Do — do I read as one?"

"Uh, yeah, high femme, I see it," Shego said. "Listen, you're queer, it's cool. But I don't want to get mixed up in your young dyke adv—"

"Shego!" Kim shrieked with much scandalization.

"Whaaat? _We're_ reclaiming the word!"

"Wait — so — so — so you're — "

"Doy," Shego stuck her tongue out. "I'm just saying I see how you look at me and you need to take a cold shower or something. So not interested."

She was in fact not interested in Shego but something about the comment made her feel very small.

Shego continued, _"But_ if you want a role model, sure! I'm queer. I'm here."

Kim's heartbeat was rapid. "Thanks."

"Not the first time a queer kid has been kicked out of their house ya know."

Like a knife to her heart.

"What?! Oh no — m-my parents — they didn't — "

"No! Not them," Shego laughed, digging her hands into deep pockets. "I'm talking about the world."

Her legs felt weak.

"Princess, getting wasted and trying to make out with a straight girl before blowing up a really well known bar is a bad look."

"Straight?! She — kissed — me — first!"

"Uh huh," Shego drawled. "People don't know that though — and besides, you beat up that Global Justice twerp and have crazy magic powers now, riiiiiiiiight?"

Shego's eyes searched deep into Kim and her defenses immediately collapsed. "I lied about that to protect Ron. I just want him to stay safe — seeing how he doesn't even want those powers anymore. I thought I was about to die so it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Mm, got it," Shego picked scraps of dried cheese from her teeth. "You okay by the way? You had like a death wish thing going on. It was kinda spooky. I mean, it's been three weeks but — "

 **Shego's Loft: Paris, France (6th District)  
** **October 22, 2007: 2:43PM**

" — ya never know. Sorry I have to ask."

Kim shrugged. "I mean yeah, I'm pretty down. Your books have been helping though — "

"Oh my God you are so gay," Shego laughed.

Kim cringed. "I'm bi, I think. I don't know. I mean — I got nothing. I lost all my friends, I have no money — or belongings now I guess. I'm homeless and the world probably hates me." She managed a laugh. "Should I be sadder?"

"Eh, your life was kinda boring anywho, but hey, I need you to sit down," Shego motioned for Kim to lean into the armchair while she took the couch. "You understand you broke the law — a lot, right?"

"Um — y-yeah," Kim scratched her head. "Unintentionally but — "

"They don't care about that. Listen. I would have liked to get you into a hospital that night, okay? But it didn't work out."

Kim nodded slowly. "B-but, why? My parents have amazing health insurance."

Shego squeezed the bridge of her nose.

"Kimmie, you're wanted in every country in the world."


	8. Six Choices

"Aw man, what are the odds that Bueno Nacho is closed for health inspections on the same day the Dining Hall is serving Mystery Meat! What are the odds?"

"Dude, I don't know, and I don't care. Don't talk to me here okay?"

"B-but — we're — we're roomies, man! Come on! Have I not saved the world before — by throwing two aliens into space?"

"Ugh."

 **Lowerton Community College Dining Hall: Lowerton, Colorado  
** **October 22, 2007: 1:02PM**

If it were possible for Ron to be any less popular than he was in Middleton well then this was the place. A domain where even lowly Ron Rieger was higher on the food chain. The two Rons splitting apart, Rieger headed to his table of gamer friends (gamer kids were cool now by the way) and Stoppable headed to the woman he could always connect with: The cafeteria lady.

He smiled wide, hoping for comradery, but his face dropped as mystery meat plopped against his tray, some of the specks splattering onto the first new shirt he had purchased in literal years.

But on top of everything else he had on his mind, this was no big. Really. Didn't get to him at all.

Shuffling past the register, Ron raised his voice with the hopes that someone — anyone — would hear him and maybe at least nod back. "Y'know, you'd think after you dump out your savings for tuition, the cafeteria would do a little better." But nope. Nothing going.

Albeit, it was largely because the students were distracted by the mystery meat that had molded itself into a gruesome beast that clung to the wall, chunks of gray sticking to the wall and it painted the name "RON."

This was not new to Ron. "Hey Rieger maybe it's for you this time."

"Buzz off dorkwad."

"Dorkwad? We still use that term?" Ron tutted a finger. "Interesting."

Ron turned to face monster and offered his attention. "What's up Sensei?"

"Ew, is that loser talking to Mystery Meat?" Ronnie Bockwaller cackled. She was like Bonnie. But less interesting. No character arcs whatsoever.

"Huh huh, yeah, you tell 'em," Flick Bragg guffawed. He was like Brick. But also less interesting. He had a character arc once in his life but it had been some time.

"Okay yes everyone! Sometimes I talk to living meat! Is this really that much of a surprise?!" Ron waved his arms and looked back to the meat. "'Sup dude?"

The Mystery Meat mimed a "call me" gesture and Ron groaned. He was really hoping to avoid this.

* * *

"Dude, what took you so long?"

"Well Stoppable-san, I had to wait until Bueno Nacho happened to be closed for a health inspection the same day that your college was serving Mystery Meat."

"...why? Can't you just — like — magic in front of me? Like you are right now?"

"...I'm very committed to the Mystery Meat bit.

 **The Rons' Dormitory: Lowerton, Colorado  
** **October 22, 2007: 1:11PM**

Sensei floated before Ron in a blue haze, legs crossed and eyes closed. Ron, on the flippity, sank into his massive bean bag chair.

"Stoppable-san, you must do something about your friend. For her to claim the title of Monkey Master is unacceptable. Especially after her actions in Paris. All of Yamanouchi feels disheartened by her action."

Ron nodded back. "Uh huh, yeah, I hear ya, but — for all we know it was just a misunderstanding. I kinda — we sort of mind melded. She got stabbed by someone and suddenly I was feeling her pain and — my powers channeled into hers. A lot of bad stuff happened. I don't know."

Sensei's eyebrow twisted up without the slightest stretch in his eye. "You felt the knife in her? Hm." He scratched the spot below his drooping 'stache. "You still have strong feels for her I presume."

"Not now. I mean I want to love Kim — but — I don't know, I could have died because of her. But yeah, she did try to take the hit for me. It was scaring me. Like — I don't know what she's going through but you have to be hurting pretty bad to want to die. Then she said let go and I just thought — hey. You're right. I don't need you and um — " his fingers twiddled against his kneecaps. "I love Kim don't get me wrong but this — this I can't deal. It's overwhelming to have to talk to her when she's in such an emotional crisis."

"Mm. Possible-chan needs you as much as you need her but hey, I'm single, so what do I know?" Sensei chuckled. "I am sure she sensed your lack of interest in the Mystical Monkey Power and chose to take the blame for you."

"Right…" Ron sighed.

"But nevertheless, Kim Possible has made a mockery of our history. Even our ancestors feel the dread. We can't have a celebrity claiming to know our ways when she's — "

"Gay now — or — uh — whatever?" Ron's eyes narrowed. "Whatever Kim wants to do with her body is fine with me."

"Ahem. I was referring more about the underage drinking and the ruthless destruction of public property with a complete disregard for human life. That is not our way."

"Oh." Ron shrugged. "I get that but I need to keep my head down, dude. Sorry to say."

Sensei bowed his head slightly and didn't move for some time. "Why has this transpired?"

"Bummed out," Ron said. "Rufus is really sick, Kim's been MIA for weeks, we broke up too, obviously, Barkin's my therapist, I can't stop messing up my job interviews, I shouldn't use my powers, and uh — what was it? Oh yeah, Rieger's a jerk. And when people knock on our door asking for Ron it always ends up being very disappointing on my end."

"Aw jeez," Sensei said too quickly. He shook his head back into composure. "Sounds rough — uh — buddy. I cannot make you do anything, but I advise you to think carefully about your actions for they do still matter. Monkey Master or not."

There was a little skip in Ron's heartbeat that felt very nice; he hadn't gotten a pep talk in a long time. Barkin, while helpful and instructive, was also loaded with conspiracy theories that it took Ron a few hours to realize were just bull-honkey.

"Somehow Sensei — I'll — " Ron pursed his lips. "I'll make you proud, okay? But I want to get my life back together first. I want to get a Shift Supervisor job somewhere — even in fast food, that'd be k. The more money I make the better I can take care of Rufus. I really can't focus on magic stuff when I'm feeling so down. Barkin's connecting me to a psychiatrist who can hook me up on some Zoloft and Bupropion so that should help a little but — ya know."

"Mm," Sensei took in a deep breath. "You should apply to Bueno Nacho."

"Oh Sensei, so naive," Ron smirked. "You don't work where you food."

"Yes but I have an _in_ there." At this, Sensei twisted his mustache. "We all started somewhere, Stoppable-San."

Ron took a few moments to blink himself back into focusing on this strange, wordly man who seemed to have dipped his toes just about everywhere. "If you could help me with that — it would mean a lot. Um. Thanks for understanding. Um — I'll do you really proud one day, okay?"

"Correction," Sensei allowed himself a quick wink to his one of his star pupils. "You'll make all of Yamanouchi proud."

* * *

"E-e-every country? In the world. No. No! Thaaaaat doesn't make any sense. France, sure but — the world? Every country?"

"Global Justice has a lot of swing ya know?"

"Shoot."

"I don't get it though. Why did you pull out all the stops at the Triangle? What were you even doing there/

 **Shego's Loft: Paris, France (6th District)  
** **October 22, 2007: 2:45PM**

It actually took Kim a moment to remember; she had completely forgot within the past three weeks what her motive even was.

"I was — um — I was looking for you."

Shego nodded steadily, as if Kim had just made a passing comment on the weather. "Mm. That reminds me — we need to talk about something."

A shiver ran up Kim's spine.

"Hold on a sec," Shego spoke while strolling over to a closet. Kim occupied her anxiety by petting one of the many cats.

When Shego returned, she was holding Kim's corkboard with all the push-pins and yarn on it. The yarn hypothesized a linear story of Shego's mercenary jobs Europe through brightening shades of green. "I snagged this from your place before the police raided it."

"Oh?" Kim tried to stay toneless.

"This is 100% accurate, I'm very impressed," Shego said, fingers strumming against the taut yarn. "You're definitely not a wash-up if you're worried about that."

"I'm _definitely_ a wash-up, but I guess I appreciate the sentiment," Kim leaned back as the cat headbutted her chest.

A wicked grin crossed Shego's angular face and she put the cork-board aside, swinging one leg over the other. "Why was it so important to you that Drakken and I became 'bad guys' again?"

Kim let it settle for a moment.

"I trusted you guys to do the right thing. I was just — shocked I guess."

Strange to be forced to summarize it all so quickly. She glumly added, "I felt like a hero, ya know? Because — I thought I inspired you guys."

"Mmmm," Shego snapped at the thought and licked her lips. "So — you wanna know why we're back in business?"

Kim kept her mouth shut and leaned forward, almost reeled in by Shego's effortless charisma.

" _This_ — is easier," Shego said very defiantly. "What you do — _did_ — is a lot harder." She held her hands up in an oafish way as a kinder method of saying _Da-doy, Princess_. "Is that really all you wanted to know?" Her knuckle popped under her chin.

"No," Kim admitted. "I wanted to figure out what I did that messed everything up so bad — um — I don't know. I'm a loser, like, this is me at the bottom of the barrel. I'm depressed, I'm having — " she gulped and skipped a few words. " — thoughts. I'm scared."

"Kimmie, let me be turn the table — why did you do what you do?"

"Huh — " Kim froze. "I'm not sure — if I — understand?"

Sheo smirked. "What made you do it? Most kids wouldn't go so out of their way for 'good.'"

"I don't know — I like helping people. Feels nice. I feel sick just like — living — and not — not doing my part. People need people like — " She really wanted to say us. But when her tongue hissed to say it, she couldn't do it. " — like me." This too, felt bad.

"Princess, cool the martyr act, you knock me down, I come back. How does that help you feel better?"

Kim's throat tightened. "Are you saying I'm supposed to kill people then? I don't do that."

"I'm saying think about the future. You're queer so stop and think — what does that mean to you?"

"I dunno."

"Well — to me it means that we're marginalized. People can hate us, dismiss us from their reality just 'cuz. You think Team Go's working on that?"

"Shego — you _hurt_ people. You know that's wrong."

"Oh — absolutely," and she leaned in. "But you're not following the paper trail. I'm talking long game, Princess. And you're wanted by the stinkin' planet — you don't have a short game anymore."

The bones in Kim's hand pushed through her skin and the cat in her lap moaned. She flinched and looked back to Shego. "Shego, you're scaring me — "

"Kim."

Kim perked up at one of the only times the mercenary ever dropped her first name with no embellishments.

"You're obsessed."

No objections there. Kim slid back in the couch, knees hugging the edge of the cushion.

"You stop at nothing to see the world that you want to see, so sometimes you're reckless. Don't be embarrassed, it's endearing."

"Well it doesn't matter now," Kim said. She tried to joke. "I'm finished. There's no way out of here but down. And I mean that literally — your rent has got to be through the roof — "

"Princess, I'm going to give you some options. Because hey, I've been in the same spot before."

Kim's voice dropped very low. "Go ahead."

Shego was very clear and blunt about what could be.

"1.) Turn yourself in and plead guilty."

This was the responsible decision. One that her parents probably hoped for her to take.

"2.) Turn yourself in and plead not guilty. Take your stinkin' BF down with you."

This was actually possible. Ron's lack of control was how this all escalated so fast. But she burned it out of her mind. She couldn't do that to Ron. She took the blame for his mystical magic mayhem so he could be happy. She could have let him take the knife to the stomach and die but she didn't — she fought for her own homicide, and now, with many regrets, she had to live with it.

"3.) Come up with a false identity and see how long she lasts."

She had spent hours fantasizing about this mysterious new identity that honestly, was the practical solution to the problem that initially brought her to Paris. Hearing Shego say it so plainly forced an understanding of how far-fetched that gambit was.

"4.) Keep Kim Possible alive but stay on the run."

Out of the question. She didn't want to be Kim Possible anymore.

"5.) Kill yourself. Sounds like you want to."

Something familiar thumped in her chest and hot tears trickled down.

"6.) Ask me what I do for work."

The answer was pretty obvious.

Sort of.

Kim gurgled out a loud sob and had to conceal her face behind a trembling hand. "Shego, I'm a good person. I can't. Please. There has to be something else."

"Aw, does Princess think I'm a bad person? Or mayhaps is she just shouting at the mirror?"

Kim's head bowed down and her shoulders reared up, rising and falling with each heave, almost like wings. "I just wanted to be me."

"That's fine, but the world ain't ready for your freak flag," Shego held her smile. "Come on. You know what you're supposed to do."

Kim's fists clenched so tightly she thought she'd pop a blood vessel. Something snapped in her back and she pushed herself back up to face Shego, but the eye contact was only on principle; the tears blurred the green woman out of sight.

"So what do you do for work?" Kim's voice crackled..

Shego fluttered her eyelashes, splaying her painted nails. "Me?! Aw shucks. Glad you asked."

* * *

 _I waited, as if the sea could make my decision for me._

 _A second wave collapsed over my feet, lipped with white froth, and the chill gripped my ankles with a mortal ache._

 _My flesh winced, in cowardice, from such a death._

 _I picked up my pocket book and started back over the cold stones to where my shoes kept their vigil in the violet light._

 _\- The Bell Jar_

* * *

Forest. Olive. Green.

"Kimmie-cub, I thought we raised you better."

"Mm, yeah. Point in fact — _thought_ you did. Yes, that's right, you're just a rocket scientist and a brain surgeon — you just h _ad_ to have the perfect daughter, right?"

"Jim, let me talk to her. Kim. Honey. You're messed up. You don't have to do let it go this way. We just want our baby back."

"Haha, yeah, okay. Hey Dad, I see this is your work tablet — do me a solid and tell me what the password is. I've been dying to see what we've been working on. The whole Hephaestus Project thing makes me a little scared at how _easy_ it is to set these things off the rails."

Jade. Lime. Mint.

"Kim, please don't touch my computer."

"Sorry Nerdlinger but you understand as well as I do that hogging all these weapons systems for _Ron Stoppable_ isn't going to do the world any good."

White. Blush. Rose.

"Do with me what you will Possible. It's not like anyone will be surprised."

"Sure. Y'know, Will, there's a little story I want to share with you. I think you're the only one that'll get it."

"Try me."

"There was a girl named Kim who really did try to do her best. But things happened. People misunderstood and thought she was bad. Then things got really bad and well — what else could she do but be bad?"

"I—I—I see."

"Yeeeeah. First, she was angry but now — now she's at peace. Hey. Calm down, calm down, I just wanted to say thank you Will. Couldn't do it without you. Oh, I really wanted to tell this to Betty but — she's not around anymore, is she?"

Red. Scarlet. Cherry.

"K. Where — where is Junior? What happened to our home?"

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that. Junior's at the bank making a very large withdrawal so he can donate to a movement he _really_ believes in."

"What? He would never — he would have talked to — oh my God."

"Haha. Yes. I did."

"You're sick!"

"Awwww. Yeah, a little. But hey, you kissed me first, right?"

Auburn.

"Oh h-hey, KP, it's been a minute, hasn't it?"

"Not long enough I'm afraid."

"Yeeeeeah, about that — I heard that um — you're doing bad stuff now, huh?"

"Save it. It's over. This is me and you lost. Now, I want you to know that when I lied to Agent Du about having your powers — I panicked. I was scared witless but now — ha — it's the best thing that ever happened to me. People run in fear at the slightest inkling that I'm around the corner."

"Kim? I — I — I don't like how y-you're looking at me."

"If I am to keep this up, then — well —

our little secret needs to die with you."

* * *

Kim Possible had nothing.

Not even the clothes on her back.

Shego forced Kim to disrobe before her, shedding the clothing that had been too big for her anyways. Like a kid playing dress up. Make-up was washed off, hair clips and ties were plucked, and she became nothing more than a stupid child that had taken the candy from a stranger. Neither spoke as Shego circled her limp form with measuring tape, the green woman penciling in every little measurement she could think of.

Hot steam cleared her systems, the scathing waters and epsom salt opening her pores, hours of burning while Kim waited for Shego to finish finding her new wardrobe in the marketplace. Meanwhile, her mind fell into delirium because Shego — very intentionally — had left one thing for Kim to toy with: a razor.

This was the moment.

She could run. It was right there, inches away. Her veins pulsated, throbbing at her skin, begging for her to get it over with.

While waiting for Shego, she finished _Ariel_ and moved onto Plath's _The Bell Jar._ But it became all too familiar all too quickly. What at first read to her as a sad girl feeling alone in New York escalated into what she could remember from her nightmares.

I let out a tear that seemed ready. It made a little hot track down my cheek.

It was at this moment that Kim began to share the same pains as Esther Greenwood; she couldn't read. The print made no sense. She slipped out of the bath to read the labels on the various soaps and conditioners, and identified that yes, these were indeed letters from the alphabet on the labels. But the letters strung together made no sense. Her mind was moving too fast to focus on anticipating the sounds of — for instance — what a th- might sound like when paired with an -e. So just nothing. Completely illiterate.

When the door finally swung open, the bath had run cold and Kim's face was dry with tears. Wordlessly, Shego crouched next to the bath and raised a palm to Kim's cheek, finger brushing away the girl's tears. Her other hand fished for the plug and quickly the water began to drain. As the water's surface slipped away from her, Kim's skin flared into goosebumps all over.

"Kimmie," Shego said after the water had been gone for nearly three minutes. "You need to get up."

"Can you hold me?" she murmured.

Shego nodded gently and wrapped her arms very carefully around the sobbing child, but Kim's demeanor didn't really lift. Eventually, Shego sighed and pulled her head away from Kim's shoulder. She looked up to her.

There was a shameful hope in Kim's eyes that almost made her blink.

"Do me a solid," Shego clipped. "And don't fall for me."

"Okay," Kim tried to say but no words came out. A finger rubbed the spot just below the hairline on her neck, nail relieving an itch that she hadn't been aware of before. Another finger looped wet hairs behind her ear, and then their lips came together, pressing each other softly. A tingling spread through Kim's cheeks that was electric — her mouth flashed her first smile of the day and they stayed like this for some time.

It was certainly not romantic — nowhere near the girl kiss of her dreams. A ferocious craving kept her strong, spine extending with each second. Bonnie ignited something within her, but that was an act of war. This moment with Shego carried with it the same gravity, but felt much more grounded. No confusion here.

This was survival.

This was love that extended beyond anything she had ever felt from anyone.

Yes. Ron loved her. Yes. She loved Ron, probably more than ever but — that person was gone. The girl everyone romanticized was performance. The girl they wanted wasn't present anymore.

A long time ago, a knot formed in her consciousness and she never dared to pry the ties loose — because that was an era where she had to stay focused. But now, those knots had twisted into suffocation.

Yet all of a sudden, a hand flipped into the knot and slowly began pushing open the loops and the deathly hold on her soul became so much more gentle.

"I see you," Shego whispered, breath hot. She pulled away and looked at Kim darkly. "You stay alive and someone will do that for you one day, because they want you. Because you'll be better. It gets easier, okay? But the first step is getting up."

* * *

"Kimmie, your heart's racing. Chill. It's really not that bad."

"B-but it's Big Daddy Brotherson — "

"Mhm, it is — so be cool. It's not like — this isn't _evil_. Ya know?"

 **Shego's Loft: Paris, France (6th District)  
** **October 22, 2007: 8:27PM**

Kim raised an eyebrow despite her closed eyes. It was difficult to make heads or tails of any of this.

"Listen, you do this first job with me and you'll get it."

"Do they know I'll be there?"

"No and that's the whole strategy."

"Mm."

Kim's new get-up was a whole project. For the past hour, Shego meticulously passed over Kim's body and built her into this brand new persona with a much more vivid agenda. At first, the nudity was uncomfortable and scary but over time it became very matter of fact. Not even Ron had seen her like this and there she was, moving like a ragdoll at Shego's touch.

Like in the old days, Kim was dressed in a crop top with three quarter sleeves, but instead of wool, she donned lace. Black lace twisted across her chest, spider-like in the sharp tendrils that flared out and arched down in acute angles. While elegant and uppercrust, the elastic bands at her joints kept her spry.

A bullet-proof vest made to the exact fit of her torso was concealed beneath the lace, protecting her upper body, the vest only displaying as solid gray behind the network of lace.

A similar material to the top was used for a long skirt that flowed down to the ankles, nearly see-through, the legs underneath them bare.

Gauntlets encased her hands and stilettos had her feet, though the heels were actually just for show; they concealed weapons that could be unleashed at a moment's notice.

The make-up Shego lathered on Kim were dark pinks and reds, bringing about the oddly cool headed anger in her eyes and the confidence in her smile. All of it was exciting, except for the hair. This was a compulsive choice from Shego; she hacked it off until it just skimmed her shoulders and then with surprisingly gentle care, Shego molded the auburn into a cute bob cut.

The only untouched piece of Kim Possible that remained was the scar that marred her stomach. It drew in the eye and quickly demanded your revulsion.

"It's tactic," Shego explained, head draped over Kim's shoulder. "No one's gonna hit you there and hey, I got the rest of you protected. So let's say they think'll shoot you in the stomach — "

Kim crumpled at the thought of actual bullets.

" — they'll go ew, no, and hit ya in the chest maybe. And because of the Kevlar, you live."

Wade Load, eat your heart out.

Shego patted both of Kim's shoulders and strutted off. "Plus, it gives you the whole once burned kinda edge."

Kim glanced into the mirror. "Shego, I look _so_ gay."

"Mhm," Shego sang and blew a kiss to the air. "You got a new lezzie image to uphold."

Kim nodded. "I feel — good. I haven't felt good in forever."

Kim's arms made it to Shego's and something began sparking between them.

"Remember. I know your imagination's probably running wild but seriously — chill. We're not villains. Yeah, they might say terrorists. They'll say whatever makes them feel distant. But we're activists. We wan't let them keep destabilizing us." Shego frowned. "The work is good. We make change you'll get to see before you die — God. You are so beautiful."

Tears welled up in Kim's eyes, tears she quickly needed to quell — y'know — for the makeup. "Shego, can you kiss me again?"

"Heh," Shego forced a giggle, but it sounded fake. "Princess, you remember what I told you right?"

"Yeah," Kim chirped and grabbed Shego by the lapels. "But one more for the road. It's platonic, yeah?"

"Heh — okay fine, one more," Shego grabbed Kim's chin with a little playful malice, squeezing the jaw just tight enough. "Ask again though and I'll be a cradle robber. So once we hit Reno, I'm finding you a girlfriend, got it?"

A strange moment lingered between them because both parties knew that wasn't happening anytime soon. But when the lips came together, Kim went light-headed, those hang-ups and fears drifting away. It reminded her of the alcohol that turned her world upside down.

It was a claw that reached down her throat and gripped her heart, squeezing it of feeling, compassion subbing out for zeal. With their bodies so close, she could remember the mission. She could remember purpose. Not because it was her but because it was someone. Anyone with compassion really.

When the tears came to Kim's eyes, Shego pulled away. Kim pushed herself to her toes. "This is me, huh?"

"Yeah," Shego bit her lip. Did she just enable something?.

"No more games, no more gags," Kim whispered. "For starters — I'm dropping the silly name. When we hit the field — I don't want to hear the usual Kim Possible-Impossible diatribe."

"Um — okay. So…?"

She crossed her arms and remembered Ron's favorite banter: _Actually it is Possible. Kim Possible. But that's a common mistake._

Kim grinned and dropped back to her normal height. "Kimberly Possible."

Shego nodded slowly.

A high-pitched voice shrieked down the caverns of Kimberly's mind. _Kay-Pee._

She narrowed her eyes. That too would need to go. But she needed her last name for now. But one day — maybe it could change. To anything — anything that didn't start with a P. That's ideal.

But.

Kimberly would have to do for now.

 **End Act One**


	9. Kimberly Hearts: 218 over 32 Days

"Um, Jimmy — I asked not to be disturb—oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, aren't you just the girl I wanted to see? How'd you get in here?"

"You really want to know?"

"Hm. Guess not."

 **Hench Co., Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 24, 2007: 10:00AM**

Kimberly Possible sauntered down the labyrinthine halls of Jack Hench's main office, taking in the sights of exuberant wealth. Portraits and statues and other excess. She smirked, betraying the shock she was holding within her. She knew Hench was wealthy but this — words failed her.

"So — what can I do you for?" Hench laughed as he leaned back in his chair, sliding his hands all the way down the armrests. "I heard you've gone very bad lately, isn't that right Ms. Possible?"

"Kimberly's fine," she snipped, kicking aside the chair waiting at his desk. She rolled back her shoulders and checked that her spine was straight. "I'm new, obviously, and I want to know what a guy like you can offer a girl like me."

Hench grinned maliciously. His leer almost demanded her to shrink back but she stayed planted. "We've got great lawyers here for starts. Of course, you get easy access to your run-of-the-mill doomsday machines and as my name infers, an ample army of henchmen to wreak whatever havoc you're craving.

"Hm," Kimberly broke eye contact and looked past Hench's shoulder and through the window, taking in the details of the capitalism that trailed all the way down to the horizon. "So — what if I don't want to take over the world? I'm not seeing anything there for me."

Hench faltered. "Well usually bad guys like you want to take over the world. I mean — you guys are always talking nutty stuff so I'm just giving the resources. But of course — I can swing things any which way. It's not hard when you have the material. Give me a vision."

Kimberly's fingers pirouetted across Hench's desk. "Politics?"

"Mm. We'd have to clean your record. Might take a few years."

Kimberly's hands danced to the very edge of her reach on the desk. "That's a little long for me. I mean you did yours in what — a day?

Hench raised an eyebrow and a harsh whisper echoed in Kim's ear. " _Sheesh. Princess, ease up or we'll need to tag you out and wait a few weeks for the heat to settle. Delicate._ "

Trying hard not to respond to that brilliantly snide voice, Kimberly recovered fast. "We're in a slow season for villainy and I noticed your henchman on TV. Canvassing for you. I know the faces, y'know, knocked a few them out of them out once or twice."

"Ah," Hench's body was a little clenched. "Is there a question in there?

Kimberly flinched. "It's smart. Outside the box. I like it."

"I appreciate that but ha — if I didn't know any better I'd say you were interviewing me. Kinda supposed to be the other way around though, right?"

Kimberly shook her head. "I'm making sure you know what you're doing."

"As if it were a question," Hench laughed, propping that tanned cheek to his rings of jewelry. Ruby and sapphire and emerald and amethyst, all reflecting light that bounced over from shiny Vegas. "Are you political?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't guess that. Tell me about it."

"Well — I'm going through some changes," Kimberly spoke listlessly. She spun the kicked aside chair back to its spot and comfortably leaned into it. "I'm — " she froze and tried to actually feel something for a moment. " — angry. I don't want to fly around the world beating people up. I can do more."

"Oh yeah," Hench tapped his desk. "I'm sure your bleeding liberal heart is all up in arms over homophobia and — "

Kimberly didn't even so much as blink.

" — right, ahem. Listen, I'll level with you Kim _berly_." Sharklike teeth flashed dangerously. "I get it, but that whole Bermuda Triangle thing? Hoowee. You ain't gonna get any work done as an angry lesbi—"

Somehow Shego felt Kimberly's heartbeat go into doubletime. " _Chill. Out. Head in the game."_

"You cannot possibly be a Democrat." Kimberly's clenched teeth made it into a compliment.

Hench took it as one. "Mm yes, my blood does run red but ya know, it's easier for a Democrat to be polarizing, right?" Off Kimberly's blank stare he continued. "Our Republican guy is off his rocker. Some people buy into it, some buy into that teacher that's running against me. Reno loves her — I know that much." He frowned but shrugged it off fast. "It's not a hard game to play kiddo. Here's how you win a race in a swing state. Let 'im bash heads. Let it explode. You know who hates that? Voters. So while they throw themselves at each other, I'm over here keeping my mouth shut. Do I need to declare policies? Make promises? No. Because who am I? A businessman. I have a whole history of results. I slip down the middle and heck, we're not voting here for a year but I already got the Primaries in the bag. As the _reasonable_ candidate."

Kimberly nodded. "Wow." Blink blink. "Uh — right, yeah. You — you figured it out huh?"

"My people did. I mean most of my henchmen are just washed up political science majors!"

"O-o-oh really?" Kimberly had never considered the dream careers of these mooks she considered fodder.

"Huh? What? No, I was — I was joking," Hench frowned. "You didn't get that?"

Kimberly stuttered. "Uh — yeah! I did! Haha! Right. Cool. Good."

An awkward pause fell between the two and Shego's laughter blasted in Kimberly's eardrums, her face slowly reddening.

Hench leaned back and chuckled. "You really are so new to this. So how about it?" He held his hand forward and out of politeness, Kimberly almost grabbed it but quickly flipped her hand into a more dainty gesture, hand bent to her wrist. Hench bit his lip and went for an uncomfortable kiss to her knuckle.

Kimberly threw her hair back. "I'll be in town a few days. We'll talk soon."

What Hench didn't know was that Kimberly was on a wire.

* * *

"Don't — say — a — word."

"..."

"P-please, Shego don't — "

Shego's laughter was so wild it could only be surpassed by a live taping to an actually good sitcom.

 **Rented Out Trailer: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 24, 2007: 10:28AM**

Too crammed with recording equipment and cats, Kimberly sat across Shego on a tiny stool, arms folded at her chest. "Seriously, Shego, stop. It's not funny."

Shego wiped a tear from her eye. "You. Are. So. Awkward. How did I not notice this before?"

"I just — I don't know, I didn't expect him to be so blunt. I mean — he's evil. And then I have to like him? It felt so dishonest to just be like Yeah, I'll see ya later," Kimberly frowned. "Ron would hate to see me lead someone on like that."

"Oh yeah, I can see why he'd have a soft spot for that sort of vile act," Shego stuck out her tongue, pulling out a tape deck. "Take off your clothes," she quickly added.

"Wh—already?" Kimberly stuttered, trying to meet Shego's occupied eyes. "I can — I'll just pull the wire out — "

"Past the Kevlar? Good luck with that, seriously, just take 'em off, I've already seen it." The tape deck thudded on top of the litter box and the cats scattered. "We need the hard copy just incase."

Face absolutely crimson, Kimberly scratched her neck and tried stuttering another response. Something like "I'm an adult, I don't want to — " but she gave up and threw a towel over herself, the fuzzy white fabric lumping up as she writhed about. Several painful minutes later, she pried the wire out and handed it over to a very impatient Shego.

"I feel like an idiot," Kimberly added after the dull tapping of keys became too overbearing.

"And ya didn't before? Weird."

"What are we even doing this for?" Kimberly asked as she struggled to get the dress back on without bumping off the towel.

"Ah, either we sell it to Chris G's campaign so she can slam him or — eh, there's a lot, but she'll probably just spend the money. Lord knows her campaign needs it."

"Shego, that's wrong," Kimberly frowned, still fighting off the red in her cheeks. "First off, even using that recording is illegal — "

" — he won't have a second to argue that point when everyone flips on him," Shego chuckled. "Big Daddy's boss wants Hench off the playing field ASAP."

"Wait — Big Daddy has a boss?"

"Everyone has a boss, yeah. I don't know the guy but he sounds very big picture, Big Daddy's all about the nuts n' bolts so we're in good hands."

What a corporate ladder of goons. Top rung was a mysterious dreamer, the next level was Big Daddy, followed by Hank Perkins — and somewhere way down was Shego. Promptly followed by herself. Y'know. The naked one who felt more like a Barbie with a drawstring than a so-called 'activist.'

"I drafted a script for your next conversation with Hench by the way," Shego drawled, slapping a messy sheet of paper. "I want to hear some actual positions out of him — you're gonna need to be very Pro-NRA and other stuff though. You ever hear of a Log Cabin Republican?"

Kimberly grabbed the script and quickly scanned it. "No."

"It's like a gay dude who's still super racist and doesn't like paying taxes basically, you're gonna be playing one of those," Shego laughed. "Princess, I'm not even looking at you and I can feel the tension in your neck. You need a li'l smoochy-smooch?"

Kimberly bowed her chin to her chest. "Not funny."

"Whatever, can you go out and grab some food? We're going to be rehearsing your conversation all afternoon."

"I don't recall you and Drakken ever doing stuff like this."

Shego's grin twisted into something very charming. "For him? Tsch, no."

Kimberly tossed the towel to the floor, cats bumping against her ankles as she readjusted the hem of her dress, Kevlar armor resting besides her on a table. "Shego, can I ask you something?"

"What's up?" Shego looked away and set back to work.

"If Drakken ever came back, would you — "

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Nevermind." Kimberly jumped to her feet, hands sifting through the coat hanger, eventually slapping on a sparkling blazer and bowler hat. "Is this cute?"

"Very vaudevillian of you," Shego smirked. Kimberly nodded and began folding her hair under the weight of the hat. "Hike up the skirt, you don't want people seeing your scratched up tummy. It's gonna be as iconic as your stupid crop-top one day."

"Right," Kimberly pulled the skirt up high, the hem just brushing her thighs. "Did you bring leggings?"

Shego shook her head. "You want granny panties too? Where are you going?"

"I need to breath, we can practice later," she quickly touched up the dramatic flares of her already alluring makeup. She kicked open the door and froze at the cold voice that lashed out at her.

"You'd go back to the Buffoon too wouldn't you?"

Heart beating rapidly, Kimberly clenched her hand to her chest, trying to hold back the truth but it came out anyways. "I wouldn't."

* * *

"Hi! Cute outfit! What can we get for you?"

"Oh thanks! Um — I had a question actually — "

"What's up?"

"So I noticed the smallest size is a Regular, I was wondering if there was like — an off menu teeny tiny size?"

"No, sorry. You don't want that much caffeine?"

"Heh. No, caffeine's fine, it's more of um — money, I'll do a regular black coffee then I guess."

"Ooooh. What did you want? A latte?"

"A-a-an Americano actually. I used to have them all the time with my boyfriend. It's okay though, I can just —"

"Ooh, got it!"

"Oh you don't have to — "

 **Cuties Coffee: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 24, 2007: 1:14PM**

Americanos were espresso cut with hot water. With the similar consistency of a cuppa joe, an Americano had stronger flavor, the overt notes of espresso transformed into subtlety that tingled at the tongue. Invented during World War I, this slightly more gourmet drink ironically came about from practicality; it was easier for soldiers to dilute espresso with hot water than it was to brew a whole cup.

Kim and Ron shared plenty of them between missions. She had hers black and she made his with a boat ton of cream. Ron still didn't like coffee but he still engaged to humor her. He could be so fussy sometimes.

While the barista ground the beans for the espresso, Kimberly piled coins up on the counter in a hurry, not sure if she was paying for a super small Americano or a regular coffee. While the shots pulled from the machine, the barista looked over and asked "What's your name sweetie?"

For whatever reason, it took Kimberly a moment to process this. "Kimberly."

"Oh whaaaaat? That's impossible! I'm also named — "

"Actually it _is_ possible. Kim Possib—mhrm, ahem, nevermind."

"Um — okay."

The steam arched elegantly from the coffee, brown liquid wavering without overflowing as the paper cup slid into Kimberly's hand. She clapped a lid over the thing and crossed her fingers that she was paying the $2.75 for a normal coffee and — breathed a sigh of relief when that was the case; she was still broke after all.

"You said you had a boyfriend?" the barista asked with mischievous relish.

"Yeah," Kimberly echoed, sipping the coffee. "This is really good, thank you."

"You miss him?"

These were normally invasive questions but well — it was a queer coffee shop. Showered in rainbows and pastels, the building itself on the scrappier side of architecture, it felt safe. "Yes but we can't be together I think — I — I just came out. Sort of."

"Oh so you're a baby queer," the girl propped her head between open palms. "You're really rocking the aesthetic."

"Th-thanks," Kimberly smiled. "Um — hey — I'd tip but — I'm sort of — broke."

"It's okay, times is so hard," the barista laughed. "Make yourself at home Kim."

Kimberly nodded and turned to face the rest of the shop. She had stood outside the door for ten minutes, going through the throws of a debate about whether this place was too flamboyant for her. But the moment she caught the makeshift library in the window, she knew she had to check it out. Her heartbeat finally slowed back down to a healthy rate when she found that _The Bell Jar_ was part of the community collection.

Nestled into the emptiest corner, cap pulled over her eyes, Kimberly picked up where she left off.

* * *

 _I was the only girl on the beach in a skirt and high heels, and it occurred to me I must stand out. I had removed my patent leather shoes after a while, for they foundered badly in the sand. It pleased me to think that they would be perched there on the silver log, pointing out to sea, like a sort of soul-compass, after I was dead._

 _I fingered the box of razors in my pocketbook._

 _Then I thought of how stupid I was. I had the razors, but no warm bath._

" _Say lady, you better not sit out here, the tide's coming in."_ A _small boy_ with freckles and chocolate eyes _skimmed a flat stone over the dull green surface, and it skipped seven times before it sliced out of sight._

" _Why don't you go home?" I said._

 _The boy skipped another, heavier stone. It sank after the second bounce._

" _Don't want to,_ KP. _"_

"Rufus _is looking for you."_

"H _e is not." He sounded worried._

" _If you go home, I'll_ do something terrible. It'll make it easier for you. _"_

Ron _hitched closer. "_ You won't hurt anyone will you?"

 _But I knew without_ thinking I would.

"Ron!"

Rufus _was indeed coming out on the sandbar, slipping and no doubt cursing h_ imself _, for h_ is _lips went up and down between h_ is _clear, peremptory calls._

"Ron!"

H _e shaded_ his _eyes with one_ claw, _as if this helped_ him _discern us through the thickening sea dusk._

 _I could sense_ Ron's _interest dwindle as the pull of his_ pet _increased. He began to pretend he didn't know me_ , or perhaps maybe he never knew me after all _._

 _I shivered._

 _Pages 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167_

 _At the foot of the stone I arranged the rainy armful of azaleas I had picked from a bush at the gateway of the graveyard. Then my legs folded under me, and I sat down in the sopping grass. I couldn't understand why I was crying so hard._

 _..._

 _I knew just how to go about it._

 _Pages 168 169_

 _At first nothing happened, but as I approached the bottom of the bottle, red and blue lights began to flash before my eyes. The bottle slid from my finger and I lay down._

 _Page 173_

" _You have a visitor."_

" _I don't want a visitor."_

"S _he'd very much like to see you."_

 _I looked down at the yellow legs sticking out of the unfamiliar white silk pajamas they had dressed me in. The skin shook flabbily when I moved, as if there wasn't a muscle in it, and it was covered with a short, thick stubble of black hair._

" _Who is it?"_

"Sheilah Go _."_

" _I don't know any_ Sheilah Go _."_

"S _he says_ s _he knows you."_

 _Then the nurse went out, and a very familiar_ girl _came in and said, "Mind if I sit on the edge of your bed?"_

S _he was wearing a white coat, and I could see a stethoscope poking out of h_ er _pocket. I thought it must be somebody I knew dressed up as a doctor._

" _You remember me, don't you,_ Kimberly _?"_ s _he spoke slowly, the way one speaks to a dull child. "I'm_ Sheilah Go. We work together, remember? But you got scared stiff after talking to one other baddie. It's cool, you're new. Let me help you. _"_

I could not remove my eyes from her black lips, how desperately I wanted them to plunge into mine, to devour me. But it was wrong. _How could this_ Sheilah Go _have become_ so close and dear to me? S _he didn't know me, either._ S _he just wanted to see what a girl who was crazy enough to kill herself looked like._

 _I turned my face to the wall._

" _Get out," I said. "Get the hell out and don't come back."_

* * *

"Hey, Kim? Hi, you want a cookie?"

"Huh? What? Cookie? Oh — oh, um, I guess?"

"Yeah, we're closing soon and I figured instead of throwing this out — "

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

As the massive cookie slid into Kimberly's waiting hands, the barista dragged the anticipatory fingers in and locked eyes with the young girl. "Don't freak, be cool. But someone just called the cops on you."

"Wh-what? For what? I — I bought something, d-didn't I — " Kimberly's eyes fell to her empty paper cup and shot back to the barista. "I don't understand, I didn't — "

"Kim, you have a super recognizable face."

A clamminess began to cave in the walls of her throat, a shiver running up each section of her spine. "Shoot." The barista opened her mouth to say something but Kimberly barely noticed. "Shoot. Shoot. Shoot." Sweat, tears, panic, shaking —

"Sh. Sh," the barista flashed a searching look to the quiet shop. "The bathroom code is 2634. Punch that in, there's a window, you can escape through there."

"What?!"

The grip on her hands tightened. "Do you have a home?"

" — n-no, but wh-why would — "

"Here's my number. If you need a couch to crash on, we're here for you, okay? Not everyone hates you, you know."

Kimberly froze. "I'm — th-th-thank you — but I'm — "

"Go. Seriously. You need to go."

Kimberly made to stand up when the barista made a sudden move, sliding a receipt into the store's copy of _The Bell Jar_ and handing the book over to Kimberly.

"This is helping you, isn't it?" the barista asked with urgency.

Kimberly hadn't realized until then that she was crying.

* * *

"Hi. Someone spotted me and now the cops know I'm here. Give me a few days to lay low and we'll get right back to it, sorry."

On the cheap flip phone Shego gifted Kimberly, it would take 218 clicks to type this.

"72hrs plz and thx"

On the flippity, this simple message took 32 clicks.

* * *

"Oh hey — what's the sitch, Ron? It's been a minute."

"Heeeeeeeeeeey Waaaaaade! What's the haps?"

"Oh — uh — not much — are you just saying hi? Where are you by the way? I'm not seeing anything on your screen — just a wall."

 **Wade's Room: Middleton, Colorado  
** **October 24, 2007: 4:28PM**

Wade narrowed his eyes, the white brick on his screen not becoming anymore clear. There was a strange thud and a shuffle on the other end. Ron never ever called him — no one did for that matter. He was getting very close to wanting to take out the old Team Possible systems but Global Justice blocked him from that, keeping a very close watch over him. Just in case Kim ever was stupid enough to call him through the Kimmunicator. But obviously she knew better. Really the whole thing was pointless.

Kim was probably never going to turn up. After what happened? It's not like it was all lies. Ron confirmed it for him; Kim was a hot mess and really needed help. But the most he could do nowadays was discreetly help the Possibles look for her over in Paris. Even that was a major security risk on his end.

"Oh — just — um — stuff. Hey, can you meet me at the tree house?" Ron stuttered.

Ron's voice was unusually high, cracking at its peaks more so than Wade was used to. Clownish in its delivery, odd when he had so lately been drained and humorless.

"Ron, honestly, you know I really don't like doing the face to face — "

"Note. Serious. Face."

The face wasn't on camera but only Ron would talk like this — as outlandish as he sounded. Not seeing the harm in abandoning his dark bedroom for a few hours, Wade figured he might as well see what was up.

"Alright, gimme thirty minutes."

* * *

"Hey Ron — so what's so important that — Ron?"

 **The Old Tree House: Middleton, Colorado  
** **October 24, 2007: 5:03PM**

Wade Load looked around this tree house that he had never before been invited to and found himself alone. The tree house was untouched, caked in dust.

"Wade."

"K-Kim?"

Over on the couch, wedged between cushions, was a flip phone, a remnant from Kimberly's childhood. The screen flashed in time with the scared voice that shuttered from it.

"Hi Wade."

"Hey," Wade carefully made his way over to the couch and pried the phone from between the cushions, the burner snapping off of its charger. "Are—are you alright? I've been super worried about you — "

"I'm fine. Global Justice bugged your home right?"

"Yeah." Wade frowned. "Nice Ron imitation."

"Thanks. Is he doing alright?"

Her voice wasn't all there, normal in volume but weak as a whisper. While her Ron impression had been spot-on, her own craftsmanship in using her own voice was lacking. Like she was a ventriloquist in desperate need of an acting class.

"He's doing good. He's really trying." Wade nestled himself between cushions, feet not even close to connecting with the floorboards. "Are you coming home soon? Your parents are worried sick about you."

Kimberly swallowed something very tangibly heard through the phone's speaker. "No. Sorry. I don't think I can do that anymore. Listen. I need your help."

"With — wh-what? Clearing your name?"

Another nervous swallow.

"No. This is actually for a good cause."


	10. 72 Hours

"So what do you say? In or out?"

"Ah, anything for the righteous cause of villainy."

"Beau—ti—ful. Big Daddy sends his regards, Señor Senior Sr."

"Of course. As I send my regards to you, Mr. Perkins, for letting me not fill out this contract while doing a handstand."

 **The Ruins of The Bermuda Triangle: Paris, France (6th District)  
** **October 24, 2007: 10:03PM**

Big Daddy Brotherson, crime kingpin who had a knack for silly games, would have been quite perturbed to learn that his most recent donor hadn't done a single silly thing through the whole signing process. But Hank Perkins, who now had an off-the-books hundred bucks in his wallet now, was quite pleased.

Hank Perkins and Señor Senior Sr. sat across each other at a lone dining table piled on top of the rubble to the former villainy hotspot. Clinking glasses, Hank smiled up at the stars while the older man leafed through paperwork, pledging an exorbitant amount of money to get the bar back on its feet.

"Incidentally, Mr. Perkins, what is Mr. Brotherson's policy on Kim Possible?"

Hank lazily looked over his swishing glass and shrugged. "Still processing. Our people are figuring out if she's one of our own kind or not. Tough to say. Especially when she's so young."

"Mm," Señor nodded. "My Junior is the same age as her and he is quite committed to the acts of nefarious villainy."

Hank offered a wry grin. "Well, anyone that has as much do-re-mi as you two probably would be just straight up evil."

An awkward pause ensued before Señor finally forced a loud laugh. "Aaaaaaaah! There he is!"

Hank slouched back in the dining chair, almost ready to kick off his squeaky clean shoes.

Señor continued, "The way you yank my chain, Mr. Perkins, it inspires me to finish that book I purchased on quipping."

"You should," Hank's lips pursed. "But really — we should be thankful that Ms. Possible is even considering what we do as an option for her — I can't speak for Big Daddy obviously but I say — let her breathe. People with cleaner records have —

A thick hand wrapped around Hank's narrow shoulder.

" — excuse me." Hank looked up at the burly guard that had been assigned to him ever since the Possible incident. "Can't you see we're in the middle of a moment? Read the room pal."

"Sorry sir," the guard slurred. "But I need to get you to Charles de Gaulle."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "I — I don't have a flight scheduled, what are you talking about — "

"Uh, yes you do, Boss," the guard put it gently. "You booked it this afternoon, you're riding First Class to Richmond International Airport."

"Richmond?!" Hank double taked and waved a hand to Señor Senior Sr. "A moment please."

"Of course."

Hank edged the guard to the edge of the demolition site. "What are you talking about?"

"You're meeting the President of the NRA on Friday morning, remember?"

Hank certainly had not scheduled a meeting with such a person — he wouldn't even know why he would. Rifles were so old school nowadays — and such a boring tool of villainy. But he had been in this business long enough to know that sometimes you just have to go with the flow, and a First Class ticket to one of the most powerful men in the world?

Well.

You don't just say no to that.

* * *

" _I'm going through a tunnel...stuck in a canyon…."_

"Ohmigosh, that's not live is it?"

" _In an elevator...do you even listen?"_

"What?! It is!"

 **Karaoke Bar: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 25, 2007: 2:02AM**

Patiently waiting for someone to fly across the globe was not a task for the anxious. Too occupied in the coulda-wouldas of her potential future, with no bed to call hers, Kimberly found herself sloshed at a karaoke bar deep into the casino circuit. Initially just going to sight see and learn the Vegas vibe, a floor staffer had passed her a drink that she truly thought to be seltzer water but very quickly became known to her as a gin and tonic. Too thirsty to think clearly, Kimberly downed the drink that was the equivalent of dirty tap water and wound up hypnotically following the dulcet tones of someone very familiar.

" _No! No no no noooooo! No no! Whoa whoa whoa!"_

Really, Kimberly had no idea that an Oh Boyz song could be dropped an octave into such a soothing baritone. Whomever this mysterious karaoke fanatic was, someone needed to hit them up with Stephen Sondheim's phone number incase the old koot ever decided to mount a revival of Sweeney Todd.

" _Hello hello hello….can you hear meeeeeeeee noooow? Hello!"_

The room was ambient, packed with adults who all, for whatever reason, carried with them an edge of sadness. She too felt the sadness and in her tunnel vision, marched past several karaoke hopefuls and onto the stage, just in time to see a ragged ponytail sink into the crowd.

It was difficult to place the chronological events or make sense of them, but Kimberly's hand found itself wrapped around a microphone and she quickly realized that her forehead was caked in nervous sweat. Did she tell the pianist to play _Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen?_

Hm.

Yes, that sounded right. Unless the pianist was so in tune with his emotions that he read the sad boy classic in her eyes and preemptively paved the way to her healing. But just as fingers began to dance across keys, another strand of familiarity echoed through the microphone.

 _Beep-beep-de-beep!_

The room fell deathly silent; those four chirps were synonymous with Kim Possible, and were far too specific a sound to come from anyone but her: the girl who looked so very much like Kim Possible. Not a great look.

While one hand trembled to her side, realizing that she had forgotten to silence the darned Kimmunicator after her call with Wade, her other hand tightened its hold on the microphone and a wild shout burst from her lungs.

" _OoooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOH YEEEEEEEEEEAH!_ "

What a save Kimberly. _Obviously_ the ringtone was just part of her stupid theme song that she was _obviously_ about to perform it for all the crooners out there. Not like she had forgotten cops were searching for her in every nook and cranny nowadays….

" _Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm —_ " Kimberly held the note for as long as it took the pianist to catch up with her. " _— your basic average girl and I'm here to save the world!_ "

She leaned into her calve and cast a sultry look to her audience. _"You can't stop me 'cause I'm —_

 _Kim._

 _Poss._

 _I._

 _Ble._

 _There is nothing I can't do and when danger calls, just know that I am on my way!"_

The whole _Call Me Beep Me_ thing had been cooked up early into her heroing career. A little on the retro side of the timeline now but still — it was a good recovery. Somehow people bought it. Either it was because no one would expect a girl like her to pop up and sing her own creed — or maybe it was just because she was so out of public favor by this point that the song was less an anthem and more of a head bopper. Or maybe people just assumed she'd be smart enough to not play her karaoke selection so close to the chest.

Who knew really.

" _It doesn't matter when or where there's trouble…"_

Her chest pulled at each word, a strange melancholy within her. Probably because she never actually sang this song out loud back when she was Earth's sweetheart. Now traveling down the path of a refugee, the whole thing was a little bittersweet.

Drunkenly, she wandered to the piano and slid her keister on top and cocked her head into her shoulder, the notes dragging with her shuddering breath. All she needed was a blue spotlight and it'd be the perfect lounge number.

The pianist took the hint and slowed down, each note breathing before shifting to the next one.

" _If you just call my name…"_

Tears sprang from her eyes. Was it performance or feeling? Who knew really. In this moment, Kimberly wanted to croon like the rest of them but there she was….

" _Kim. Poss. I. Ble."_

At the anguished bellow of the now hollow sounds of her name, the audience ripped into laughter. Not the intended result and then she identified that those tears, wherever they came from, were real, warping her overdone make-up, more Shirley Temple than Robert Goulet.

* * *

As good fortune would have had it, many people sang _Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen_ and it was then that Kimberly realized maybe she was a little melodramatic. There was in fact something reassuring in seeing people four times her age hovering on the same emotional wavelength.

After maybe an hour passed, Kimberly remembered the thing that had jump started this whole wishy-washy endeavor, and whipped out the Kimmunicator to see who had been remotely interested in texting her. Probably Wade with an update on Hank's flight to Virginia.

But instead the message was from her Potential Boy over in Lowerton.

 _"Hey KP, IDK if you use this anymore, just wanted to let you know that I forgot to take your name outta my references on my resume, so if you get a call from Ned — could you tell him the story about the time I threw two aliens into space? I feel like there's something there — like the way I reacted totally sets a tone for how I handle bad sitches at work, ya know? Anyways, sorry to be so awkweird. I miss you. Heard you're in Vegas so be safe and stuff._

 _PS. If you get wasted again, that's cool I guess, just like don't get into a wacko bar fight. I don't think my powers will transfer to you and stuff this time._

 _PSS. Not to harsh. Barkin just told me to set boundaries, especially if we're talkin' mystical monkey stuff._

 _PSSS. Not cool taking the cred for mystical monkey business. Don't expect a Christmas card from Sensei this year."_

Was she supposed to respond to this? It was very open and shut after all with a comfortable amount of wiggle room. 'Course if Shego knew this what was keeping her out late at night, one hand cradling a text from an ex and the other cradling a full glass of bourbon, well — she'd have a lot of 'splaining to do. So perhaps it was best to just not leave a paper trail.

"Hello Kimberly Ann. I have come to ask if you'd be down for a trade."

Kimberly's neck craned up and while her vision was blurred, the blue skin was a dead giveaway as to who was speaking to her. She got up with a start, knees thumping into the wet wooden table. "Drakken."

The Bad Doctor grinned and with the dexterity of Indiana Jones in a rush, spiralled out Kimberly's drink with his own. He swished the bourbon before taking a sip from it. "Try the Coco Moo. It's soothing."

The jittery Kimberly fell back to her chair and pushed the glass away. "Wh-what? Why are you here? Are — are you still working with Shego?"

"Off and on, why? Is she here?" his unibrow arched with query and then he gasped. "Wait! If she's here — and you know she's here — hm. I've never been one to read the room but I'm guessing you two must be together."

Kimberly wanted to contest that but was too worn out and fell into a blush. "Professionally, yes."

"Are we becoming a little evil family?" Drakken laughed. Kimberly decidedly did not. "Seriously, are we? Christmas is coming up and I need to — hm, no! You had your chance Kimberly Ann! No gift for you." Strangely emotional, Drakken sipped the bourbon. "Yowza, what is this? I thought it was diet soda."

Kimberly's eyes crusted over. "Bourbon. Um. I'll — can I have that back?"

" _You_ — drink bourbon? Psch. Nonsense," Drakken took another sip. "I'll have to talk to the bartender, this soda is tepid. And their Coco Moo is making me gassy."

Completely adrift, Kimberly frowned. "What's your scheme?"

"Ooh, I'll never tell," Drakken tittered. "It's quite magnificent."

"So you have no idea what you're doing?" Kimberly flashed her canines. "The whole Moodulator thing and the college applications don't really add up. No wonder Shego freelances."

"Oh my plan is iron clad," the way Drakken pursed his lips to say this made his face very punchable. "Buffoon-proof even."

"Well you won't have to worry about him," Kimberly groaned. "He's out of the picture. If you're intent on conquering Drakkanada or whatever it'll just be me against you and we both know how that ends"

"Ooh," Drakken slid the nearly full glass to the side. "No Drakkanada for me. Why — I'm not even thinking about conquering the world."

Kimberly blinked. "That's your bag though, isn't it?"

"An old bag, yes. My focus is elsewhere, Kimberly Ann. I'm sure you've already put it together."

Old threads of thought wound through Kimberly's mind, flashing in shades of green, the exact path of Shego's European tour still carved in her mind. And 'neath some of those lines were threads of blue. Running almost parallel along.

"You wanted to bum me out, yeah, I picked up on that," Kimberly drawled. "You put my name in for MIT?"

"Duh," he chuckled.

"Why did you do that?" she edged around the table until Drakken was forced to take a step back. Things began clicking. "Oh no, you submitted my name all over the country didn't you?"

"What can I say — I have a soft spot for academia. Didn't want you to miss out."

"Th-that's so expensive though!" Kimberly briefly ran the astronomically high numbers of college applications in her mind.

"Well — heh — let's just say Mama Lipsky signed off on some of the checks — oh, she wanted me to let you know she wants to get tea sometime — "

"What? No, stop." Kimberly rubbed her temple. "I'm spent — because — because of you?"

"Eh," Drakken was very non-committal. "Everyone burns out sometimes."

Kimberly pounded an anxious fist to the table. "B-but — you used the college applications to work me up and get me to like — disassociate." The corner of Drakken's mouth twitched upwards in delight. "You stressed me out. You forced the breakup."

Drakken stuck out his tongue and chuckled. "Off or on, whatever, I am not interested in the imputent decisions of teen romance. Learned my lesson about that last year I think."

Muscles pulled taut in her arms, she grimaced. "This is my life, Drakken! You're messing with it — well, you know what? You think you're a puppet master and all that well guess what? You're not. I am still saving the world — you'll never stop me."

"Your belief that I have such command in me is flattering," Drakken chuckled. "You know as well as I do that I'm too hairbrained to take over the world. I mean — the farthest I've reached into the murky depths is taking the bendy straws away from Bueno Nacho. You really think I have it in me? I don't even know how to run a fast food business!"

Kimberly deflated. "Stop working me and leave me alone. Once the dust settles, I'm gonna just be be normal."

"But you're so capable of great things," he chirped back.

She remembered the tightness of Shego's grip on her shoulders, how the nails threatened to stick into her, how they needed to sink into her. "I'm really not."

The proud parent sucked out of Drakken's chest. "Why are you here?"

She seriously thought about it. On an immediate need, she was killing time. But on a grander scheme…. "...I just want to feel something. Something that's mine, not like — what the world wants for me."

A cold shoulder turned towards her and abruptly faced the other way. "Mmmm. There's plenty of ways to do that. Why this?"

"I don't know."

* * *

"Yes, I'm not sure how this mix-up happened, but rest assured Big Daddy, I'll get something going in our favor. Hm? Oh, yeah. Señor Senior Sr. signed off on it, so we're very close to full funding now. I have some people reaching out to contractors as we speak. Mm. Mm. Yeah. Yeah. Got it, I'll let them know."

"Hello Hank."

"Wh-what?! What — how did you get — ahem — what was that Big Daddy? Oh yeah. Uh huh. Uh huh. Oh, no, hah, no, it's a one bed. Not sure who that voice was — must be the room over, anyways, gotta go. Catch ya on the flippity."

Cliiiiiiiiick.

"Don't tell me you set this up."

 **Stafford Hotel: Fairfax, Virginia  
** **October 25, 2007: 9:52PM**

Hank Perkins grimaced over to the laptop waiting on the desk, the face of Kimberly Ann Possible staring back at him with similar energy.

"I did," Kimberly said coldly. "Don't worry. It's legit; I'm with Shego."

"Oh that's reassuring." Hank rubbed his baby smooth chin. "Do me a favor. Remind her we have paperwork to fill out for this sort of thing. What's with the box?"

Used to Shego's shenanigans, Hank's attention went to the sealed box waiting for him besides the laptop. Sighing, he wedged his fingernails underneath the packing tape and ripped it off the cardboard, hands greedily diving into the cracked cardboard and pulled out what looked to be some sort of router.

He fiddled with the device, unable to make heads or tails of it. "This is….?"

"Don't worry about it," Kimberly snapped. "The less you ask the smoother this goes."

"Ain't that the truth?" Hank laughed, sliding into the comfy chair, dancing his hips across the cushion until he fitted into the wood perfectly. "So why the NRA?"

"You'll see," Kimberly smirked, smile wide enough to stretch the rings under her eyes.

"Something to do with Hench though I'm assuming," Hank tapped his chin and fell into a shrug. "Very ambitious. You'll climb the ladder fast — long as you don't mess this up."

"Do your part and you won't need to worry about any clean-up," Kimberly frowned. "Now listen up, we have one shot at this."

* * *

"You looking for anything in particular?"

"Hm? Oh. I dunno. I'm still kinda new to this."

"Reading?"

"Yeah, haha. I just graduated high school but I never really — you know, Sparknotes and all that?"

"Mm."

 **Las Vegas-Clark County Library: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 26, 2007: 10:13AM**

An old, freckled hand reached up past where Kimberly's gaze was focused, hawklike eyes quickly browsing through authors' names. "What do you like?"

The sudden eye contact knocked her back a few steps. Not since karaoke had she actually had contact from anyone. Not from a lack of trying — more from her wide eyes that couldn't bear to close before darkness.

Fully aware of the repercussions of what it meant to speak so lovingly of the deeply personal and intimate Plath, the bleeding out of her soul still screamed for more pain to stopper the flow. "I just finished all of Sylvia Plath. I mean — it's not a big library unfortunately, but — "

The librarian offered a kind smile. There wasn't much to say to her without taking in a deep breath for a similarly deep dive. "Have you read _The Awakening_?"

"Yes," Kimberly said quickly. "Recently. Chopin also — doesn't have much."

"I remember when I was going through a lot I really liked Virginia Woolf," the librarian tutted, pulling out a copy of _To the Lighthouse_. "Are you angry?"

The librarian was less a worker and more some sort of spectre speaking to Kimberly's very soul. Too stunned by the bluntness, she nodded.

"Good. Hold onto that."

Next book to the stack was James Baldwin's _The Fire Next Time_ , swiftly followed by _Giovanni's Room_.

"Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself, give yourself something light — "

Off of Kimberly's frown the librarian waved a finger at her, "Can't stay up all night reading about death. We need sleep for a reason missy."

Kimberly could only offer a wry smile though entire essays scrolled through her mind in response, jaw too tight from tension to utter even a passage from one of them. Taking advantage of her momentary dumbness, her urge to talk shop reared its very organized head. "What's your opinion on Chris Giunchigliani?"

"Oh she's going to save us," the librarian didn't even need to think about it. "I think that if someone actively went out of their way to work in politics or business, like Jack Hench, they probably shouldn't be allowed to run. But Chris G's a teacher. I think she's running for us."

Kimberly nodded. "I wish I could vote for her."

The librarian's eyes were glassy. "I wish you could too."

* * *

"Kimberly! Having as much fun evading police detection as you are my security staff?"

"Oh. It's a thrill."

"Really, kiddo — I get you're doing the _evil_ gambit, but a Google Calendar invite would be swell."

"Next time."

 **Hench Co: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 26, 2007: 12:00PM**

Kimberly, so tired it almost didn't matter anymore, played it very cool as she slid into place before Jack Hench. Fingers tapping at her knees, she edged in closer until her lap was fully out of sight.

"Let's talk turkey," Hench grinned.

"Yes, let's," Kimberly strained, dress lifting as a router passed between her thighs, falling into her lap. Her smile pulled tauter and the router slid across her lap and to the lip of the desk, and five circles quickly lit up bright green out of sight from the political hopeful.

* * *

"Hank Perkins! Who do I owe the honor?"

"Oh if only I knew. Maybe your receptionist just missed me so much she strong armed us."

"Ha, that's funny! Glad you flew down, always happy to catch up with an ol' so and so like you."

 **NRA Headquarters: Fairfax, Virginia  
** **October 26, 2007: 2:00PM**

Hank Perkins folded his legs over each other, cuff of his slacks pulling past the argyle socks, fingers set a twiddlin' as he pushed into place before the President of the NRA, one of his former bosses.

"You really have worked your way up the ladder fast. I'm proud of you, kiddo," the Yosemite Sam-stan smiled. "I would have never thought my photocopy boy would pull off a caper like Hank's Gourmet Cupcakes."

"I learned from the best," Hank chuckled, router slipping between springy legs and latching onto the underside of the NRA desk. Five circles quickly lit up bright green out of sight from the corporate overlord.

* * *

"What attracts you to villainy, Kim?"

"Kimberly."

"You know, even Dementor is okay with being called Demenz every now and then."

"That's because both names are dumb. Kimberly's a lot more adult."

"So what attracts you to villainy consulting? A little on-the-nose for an NRA guy, innit?"

"Ha, true. Pays well though. Great benefits."

"Right."

While the two made small talk, money transferred out of the NRA….

….and directly into Hench Co.

To the tune of ten million dollars.

Not that either mogul would notice. No, to them, it was just a blip.

"Really though," Kimberly sighed. "I just wanted you to know that I am declining your offer."

"I wasn't aware I made an offer."

"You did — it's in your body language. You know if you're serious about running for Governor, I'd rehearse your big speeches in the mirror. You're clearly very _un_ self-aware.

* * *

"Anyways, I don't want to keep you," Hank bolted to his feet and went for a quick handshake.

"Keep me? Hank, you flew here from Paris and you're already out the door?"

"Well you know how it goes," Hank's guffaw was just loud enough to mask the clunk of the router falling into his suitcase.

* * *

Likewise, Kimberly's groan masked her router that fell into her suitcase. She pulled her wrist from Hench's death grip and rubbed it, tears fighting to well up in her eyes.

"Oh geez, I'm sorry my handshake is a little presumptiou—" Hench frowned, blinking several times as he tried to keep up. "Are — are you bleeding?"

"No," Kimberly snipped too quickly, the white bandages peeking from beneath the black lace sleeve revealing odd flickers of vibrant red. "Experimenting with color schemes is all."

* * *

 **Las Vegas Convention Center: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 27, 2007: 12:48PM**

Chris Giunchigliani was walking through a convention center, headed to a panel for teachers she was to speak at. Body boldly present in a bright blue pressed pantsuit, blond hair short and cropped to the sides of her long head, the only signal that betrayed her confidence were thin lips subconsciously mouthing a quickly upcoming presentation.

A teacher not quite used to politics yet, Chris was somewhat in over her head for this Governor's election. But she believed in the work and that was what kept her going.

So focused on getting her presentation just right, she did not notice a thing when a shadow dropped down from behind her. Thin arms struck her with the impact of a battering ram and her high heels clattered along the floor at the same pace as her assailant's push. Her head almost slammed against the plaster wall when the figure stopped shoving her, the two of them around the corner from everything else. When she finally met eyes with her assailant, her heart leapt to her throat.

While she had never met this child before, she was well-acquainted with the idea of her and already had longed to somehow get involved in this poor kid's sob story.

Kimberly's dead eyes looked up at the school teacher, glassy and tired, hands trembling. "Please don't be afraid. I don't want to hurt you."

"This is a bad time," Chris jumped back, brushing her pantsuit after one lengthy step. "I cannot be seen around someone like you right now, I am so sorry."

"I get that," Kimberly frowned. "But this is important. I skewed Jack Hench's schedule. He's going to be at your panel too."

A single sheet of paper sliced the small blond hairs of Chris' palms, fluttering into her grasp. She ran aged fingers across high cheekbones while reading the information. "Is this accurate?"

"Yeah," Kimberly's throat was dry. "Hench needs to be challenged on something — anything, ya know? And this is a bad look for him. So expose him."

Icy blue eyes glared daggers at the girl. "I'm aware. But I'm not concerned about him. Hench doesn't stand for anything. This is moot."

Kimberly made to shout but coughed, throwing her body against the wall while she briefly crumpled. "He's letting you take all the heat. You don't care about that?"

She shrugged. "I thought that was obvious. Listen, Ms. Possible — you're a good kid. I appreciate you trying to help me but — " She pressed her lips together. " — focus on your own life first. You can still have a bright future."

Kimberly's hands lashed like vipers and crinkled the paper in Chris' hands. "Please. Just bring it up. Trust me."

* * *

Jack Hench was at the convention center to inspire some businessman to make big moves that would further their careers.

Correction.

He was there to make money. Lots of it. Once you got as rich as he was, scoring more moolah wasn't even that hard. Just talk about yourself and for whatever reason, desperate people will pay up.

So Hench was a little surprised when he found not his cast of men with straight-laced CVs, but a school of anxious teachers. Not really his scene; they are all broke after all. He paraded across the room with a quickly faltering confidence. Was this a prank? It seemed a little odd when his assigned room had been reassigned at the last possible moment. He wanted to say that it was Chris G who didn't get the memo but he saw nary a networker with an overpriced business card.

Some teachers rose to intercept him and chastise him for showing his gross tan in this place, but silence spread quick as Chris G held up an open palm.

"Wrong room?" she smiled wryly.

Hench sucked on his lip. "I guess so. Sorry ladies."

"Hold."

Hench raised an eyebrow. "Can't sweetheart, I have my own panel to speak at."

Chris stepped down from her podium and crossed her arms. "I've been dying to ask you about this — what's your opinion on gun control?"

You could hear a pin drop.

Hench shrugged. "Oh, ha. Yeah, of course. You know. I support common sense gun reform and all that — now I really gotta get going — "

"So why did you take a major ten million dollar contribution from the NRA yesterday?"

Chris clicked a remote and several charts appeared on the wall via projector. Her voice was steady as she hounded him on the hypocrisy, most of the information flying over Hench's head as he tried to make heads or tails of what those charts even meant. Because while he did in fact support the NRA, he knew for a fact he never took money from them for this explicit reason.

Yet somehow, Hench Co. had a ten million dollar contribution taken very directly from the NRA within the past twenty four hours.

* * *

"Oh baby doll!"

"Hi Sheg—erm — ah — not so tight please and thank you."

"When you texted me _72 hours_ I thought you were gonna like kill yourself, but no. You just won us the Primaries. No big, right?"

"I wouldn't say we won them — "

"Uh huh. Kimmie, check online. Guess you don't have Nerdlinger for that anymore. You know how to run a basic internet search, right?"

 **Rented Out Trailer: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 27, 2007: 715PM**

Kimberly pulled away from Shego's lock on her shoulders, increasingly flustered at the touch. It was so close to what she really wanted — those black lips. But on so many levels that would have been wrong. But it'd be a nice pick-me-up.

Really though, if things were alright in her head, she would be the one bending Shego at the small of the back, pushing back hair and bobbing in for a kiss. Kimberly was the one who successfully lifted a boat ton of money from the NRA to frame a major political candidate with much scandal after all. Yet despite the gusto, her body was limp in Shego's grip.

Kimberly collapsed onto the stool, one of the cats immediately burrowing into her lap. She scratched the feiline's ears while taking a moment to absorb this bizarre situation. "You're messing with me right? That can't be the whole election...right?"

"Eh, people are fickle," Shego shrugged. "Consider yourself a true blue political terrorist, Princess."

"Is — is that a thing?" Kimberly's pupils had dilated dramatically. "I'm not — no way." Her eyes looked up from her lap and immediately melted into Shego's, whose chin was almost perched to her forehead. Hot breath to dry skin, Kimberly shrunk.

"You weren't such a closet case when you were with your mom, were you?" Shego tutted, reaching over the small girl's head to grab a mason jar off a cluttered self.

"No! I'm not — well — ugh, I guess — I guess I am a closet case."

"You _guess_?"

"Don't do the semantics thing with me — Shego, I'd love to celebrate but I really just want to go to bed. I haven't slept at all."

"No kidding," Shego deadpanned after some careful observation. "Well, that's fine. I'm gonna peace for a few to grab some cold brew. Go sneak into the gym next door, you can shower there."

Kimberly blinked. "Shower? What? No, Shego, I need to sleep not — "

"You need to pretty up," Shego hissed, her hands naturally falling into Kimberly's, green thumbs working the sores in her palms. It felt nice. Very filial. "Sleep comes later, someone wants to see you."

"Well we'll have to raincheck because seriously — I'm exhausted."

"Princess." Shego rolled her eyes. "This isn't any ol' so-and-so. This is Big Daddy Brotherson."


	11. Bad Girl

After so many years of going out of his way to do things because it would be his Honor, it was strange to know that Ron Stoppable had become so complacent. The silly go-getter who so effortlessly handled the stress of being an All Powerful Being should have been with her, mastering his techniques. But that wasn't the case at all.

" _Oh yes. Stoppable-san is quite adept at throwing aliens into space,_ " she overheard Sensei explain to someone on the phone just the other day. " _I don't know if I would personally lead my resume with that but — it is no lie._ "

What a strange exchange of dialog. Even stranger that Sensei was so blissfully okay with Stoppable-san's fall from grace. But maybe this was just something outside of Yori's realm. Something that she needn't really focus on.

It wasn't like the world really needed some Mystical Monkey Marvels right now.

 **Yamanouchi Ninja School: Yamanouchi, Japan  
** **November 3rd, 2007: 1:02AM**

Yori couldn't sleep and after two hours, decided it would be best for her to walk through her thoughts. Restless, arms brought in close, hands splayed on elbows, she frowned into the dark landscapes that offered no solutions.

This was when she heard a whisper in the night — even this late in the night, the sound of an approaching assailant was unmistakable. Happy to break from the brooding, she flipped into the air, both legs coming out from under her, lithe calves gripping her attacker by the neck. The two tumbled the ground together, his collision far more painful than hers.

Her legs jumped back to her and she got to her feet, as did her attacker. It was almost too dark to see — but the white suit with blue highlights reflected enough light to allow her to see the stern, square chinned boy. He growled and lunged at her.

She made to block his fist, but her bones quickly ached at the impact. The boy's strength was inhuman so she withdrew, twirling around his flurry of strikes that blurred into a mess of light as he backed her down the stone path.

It wasn't before long that Yori found a glaring opening in the boy's onslaught, and she swung her foot towards his jugular, but just as her foot extended to its full height, a crack in her knee delivered her a howl of pain. The whiplash threw her head back and when she came back to, she saw a shimmering sphere of blue surrounding the boy, the same energy that had trapped her knee into place.

The boy smirked at her and held his arms out and spun like he were in a Broadway musical, the sphere rolling with the sway of his arms. Yori tried to fight this grip he had on her, but couldn't escape, and rolled into the air, body smashing up against the shield. She pulled on her leg to sever the connection but it was no good and before she could make a new attempt at escape, her head splintered through a wooden wall, the shield dissipating as her body fell to the ground.

Heart beating rapidly, Yori fought for her mind to wander away, the beat becoming scary slow as the boy's fingers brushed against her jaw to feel her pulse. All the tension snapped as he rolled her away as if she were just some ragdoll.

This was Global Justice. Sensei had warned the students about these people.

The boy smirked and creaked back to his full height, checking if anyone had spotted or heard their little kerfuffle. Satisfied that they were truly alone, he slunk bank into shadow and made his way towards Sensei's room.

* * *

"We're here to see your boss."

 **The Bermuda Triangle: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 27, 2007: 10:58PM**

A burly man opened the door for Shego and Kimberly. Shego in her green and black dress with a slit splitting the fabric all the way to her thigh, and Kimberly in her usual ensemble, the only thing keeping her from slouching was a black coffee with three add shots. Although it did give her an unfortunate twitch in the eye.

As the ladies passed by the bouncer, thick fingers grabbed her thin shoulder and held her in place. Exacerbated beyond belief, Kimberly turned to her cohort. "Shego. Can you tip the man?"

Shego held back a snicker as the bouncer lifted Kimberly's wrist into the air and slid a bracelet onto it. When she brought her hand back down to eye level, she saw the pastel colors, diapers, and rattles that adorned the stupid thing.

Several whines squeezed up Kimberly's larynx but were quickly frozen in place by Shego's pinched fingers on the younger girl's lips. "They really don't have to let an underaged kid in so be thankful Princess."

Kimberly brushed it off and scanned the club quickly. Much less seedy than the one in France, with even more theatrical flourish than the original. But still similar. It almost made her think that she was supposed to go toe to toe with Shego again while Ron goofed off playing poker with some cowboy and his friends.

"It feels so weird to be on the reverse side of this," Kimberly moaned. "Am I a bad person?"

"Chill out," Shego shook her head. "If _you're_ a bad person well then I must be the Devil himself."

Kimberly briefly considered it; that wasn't too far off the mark. She rubbed her temple and looked past dry hands to the club. "Okay, well — I want to fly solo on this one. Can you like get me some tea or something while I talk to Big Daddy?"

"Sure," Shego shrugged. "But you should know — "

"Puh-leeeeease. Shego, I'm a superhero. I think I can handle _Big Daddy_."

* * *

"Um — hello! Are you Crosby?"

"Ah! Just on time! Hello Mr. and Mrs. Doctors Possible."

 **Crosby's Crusty Croissants: Paris, France (9th District)  
** **October 14, 2007: 1:59PM**

Freshly brewed coffee finished dripping down from metal cones and Crosby hoisted the two cups off the counter and carried them over to the two harassed parents, promptly falling into a cushioned seat and gesturing for his guests to do the same.

"So how do you know our daughter?" James Possible asked before taking a sip. In fact, not much coffee was actually drank during this meeting.

"She applied for a job here actually," Crosby tilted his head, dark eyes watching the parents carefully. "Wasn't really her thing though."

"Not our Kimmie-cub," James looked over the _very_ quiet coffee shop.

"Mm, it sounded to me that she was actually still working on those missions of hers."

Mrs. Ann Possible tapped in. "We kind of figured she was still doing that. Did she tell you directly?"

"Yeah," Crosby said. "I was her only friend in Paris."

"When did you see her last?" James put the mug aside and folded his hands together.

"Before the infamous Bermuda Triangle scandal. I tailored her costume."

"Costume?" Ann raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, the suit wasn't a _lifestyle_ choice, she just needed a disguise because you know — she's world famous and all that. She is going through a lot right now."

"What do you mean?" James asked and off Crosby's sealed lips continued, "Where is our daughter?"

Crosby gulped down something strong.

"I don't think she wants to be found."

* * *

"Big Daddy. Kimberly Possible. I understand that — "

"Uh-uh-uh. Password?"

"P-password? What — password?"

 **Bermuda Triangle: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 27, 2007: 11:03PM**

Kimberly soared from the entrance to Big Daddy's all across the club and straight onto Shego's table where she promptly slid to the floor.

"Didn't have the password?" Shego laughed as she slipped out of Kimberly's sight.

Pink hands bunching up the tablecloth, Kimberly threw herself back to her feet. "You might have mentioned the password!"

"Thought a hero like you would figure it out."

"Shego," Kimberly's arms arched straight down to the table. "I am not feeling particularly patient tonight."

"Okay wet blanket, woof, deja vu. The password is — "

….

….

The corner of Kimberly's mouth stretched to her cheek in embarrassment. She blew a loose hair back to the top of her head and standing before Big Daddy, announced the password.

"Niener."

Big Daddy's yellow teeth flashed from his toadlike maw and he gestured for Kimberly to sit across him on a very illustrious bean bag chair.

Legs folding under her, Kimberly gripped the back of the chair so that she should properly face the crime kingpin. "You wanted to see me?"

Big Daddy nodded and pulled out a drawing tablet and held up four pudgy fingers.

Kimberly blinked.

Big Daddy dropped three digits and held up one mighty finger, nodded, and then pointed to himself.

She could really go for a glass of water. "With all due respect, Mr. Brotherson, I don't have time for silly games."

Big Daddy's brow furrowed severely and once again, Kimberly was scooped up and thrown out of the room.

…

"He _likes_ to play silly games F—Y—I."

* * *

"Aw man. Hey Rieger! Do you remember how to do — um — numbers?"

"Put a sock in it Stoppable!"

"What?! Dude! I do not understand the social dynamics here. I mean what — haven't I saved the world once or twice?!"

"..."

"Shouldn't that mean I'm probably a likable guy!?"

"..."

"Dang Rufus. Tough crowd, huh?"

 **Ron's Dormroom: Lowerton, Colorado  
** **November 12th, 2007: 8:24PM**

Rufus sputtered in his sleep; little dude was rarely awake anymore. Ron frowned and gently rubbed Rufus' bald little head and looked back at his Calculus homework. "I really miss Kim."

He slouched at his desk, the numbers on his page blurring together into a jumbled mess. It was times like these that really brought him back to high school. Back when Kim was just a phone call away and it would always be no big. Now….

"I hope that like — whatever she's doing right now makes her happy." Ron boldly announced to no one. "She's a cool person and deserves the best. Rufus, should I call Kim?"

Rufus had little to say on the matter.

"Probs not, yeah," Ron got out of his chair and began changing into his work uniform. "What would I say? Hey Kim? Just me. I'm having a hard time with my calculus and before you say it — the Ron-Man does study now but between his full time job shift managing at Bueno Nacho and his full time edumacation here —he's swamped. Wanna help a friend out?"

Ron nodded in the mirror. He looked so sniveling.

He slid his clip-on tie on. "Maybe she'd like send me a super secret message from — wherever. That'd be fun. I wonder if she still uses this."

He scooped up the Kimmunicator and looked into it for a long time. His finger twitched through the directory, hovering just above Kim's name. "What did I just say? Hey Kim, it's me? That's dumb. Don't say that. Say like — like — "

Rufus' wheezes were like a dying grandfather's.

"Oh! Wade knows Calculus! I'll just call Wade — yeah — oh hey Wade! Can you — hello?"

Ron pulled back the Kimmunicator.

USER OFFLINE.

"Oh geez."

Wade was never offline.

* * *

"Alright, okay, yeah. Four words. First word. You? No? O-oh! I! First word is I! I! Yes. Okay. Second word. Hm. On — heart? No? Love? What? Th-thumbs d-d-dow—hate? No. Split the difference? Love. Hate. Like. Like! Yes!"

 **The Bermuda Triangle: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 27, 2007: 11:08PM**

The game of charades did not last very long.

 _I like your vision._

Big Daddy placed his scribbled tablet off to the side and smiled at the girl. "You are quite good at the charades game."

Kimberly couldn't think of any real response so she just nodded, chest drawing closer to her folded up knees.

"Has Shego told you about what we do?"

"Sort of," Kimberly pressed chapped lips together. "We're stabilizers, right? We fix things in ways that no one else can?"

Big Daddy snapped along as if they were at a slam poetry session. "The _Big_ Big Daddy is very interested in the strategy you used to take down Jack Hench. While you were not under our employment, you will be receiving an ample bonus for your actions."

The bouncer stepped forward and bowed a check into Kimberly's lap. She quickly held the check into the air and squinted to make sure she was counting the amount of zeros correctly. "I'm confused. This is a lot of money."

"Don't be. It's yours. Plain and simple," Big Daddy's lower teeth bit into his thin upper lip.

"Why is this marked as Reimbursement for Groceries?" Kimberly waved the check in the air.

Big Daddy tittered, hands rubbing up against his chest as laughed to the ceiling. He continued the conversation without skipping a beat. "There's a lot of work to be done. Global Justice for instance is a problem. I'm sure you're aware of their unethical practices."

"Tell me about it," Kimberly mumbled. "But — what — you're not saying that — "

Big Daddy leered at Kimberly like he would before dropping the cage at the end of a game of _Mouse Trap_.

" I mean, I don't like them but that doesn't mean — they're not bad guys," Kimberly sweat. " _I'm_ not a bad guy. I don't want to — I can't — "

 _I moved in front of the medicine cabinet. If I looked in the mirror while I did it, it would be like watching somebody else in a book or a play._

 _But the person in the mirror was paralyzed and too stupid to do a thing._

 _Then I thought maybe I oughta spill a little blood for practice, so I sat on the edge of the tub and crossed my right ankle over my left knee. Then I lifted my right hand with the razor and let it drop of its own weight, like a guillotine, onto the calf of my leg._

 _I felt nothing. Then I felt a small, deep thrill, and a bright seam of red welled up at the lip of the slash._

" — is there a plan already? Or — "

"It's up to you Ms. Possible."

* * *

"Alright old man. Tell me: What is this?"

"Hmmmmmmm...that...would be...hm. A picture I think."

"I know it's a picture, but what am I looking at?"

"Oh. Hm. Hm. Hmmmmmmm. Is — is there a filter on that?"

"N-no. What?"

"Ooh. No filter. Do you Insta?"

 **Sensei's Room: Yamanouchi, Japan  
** **November 3rd, 2007: 1:21AM**

Will Du rubbed his square jaw, the beads of sweat on his forehead now cooled down. "I'm still just on Myspace. But that's besides the — "

"Once you insta this photo," Sensei pointed at the ceiling sagely. "Make sure to tag this one #Unfiltered."

Will's tired eyes burrowed into the old sack of flesh for some time before he could even construe a base level response. "I'm not going to get an Insta."

Sensei's stringy mustache drooped. "Oh."

Will shook his head. "What am I looking at? Aside from a picture on my phone."

"Ah, thank you for clarifying." Sensei gripped his knees and leaned in, nose so close to the tiny screen that it didn't really make sense that he could make out the details. He itched his chin.

The blue barrier that Will and Betty had discovered at the crime scene in Paris was now in Global Justice HQ, carefully held in the air by several mechanical claws. The boys from the lab had one by one by reassigned to this delicate project of figuring out what exactly this energy even was. Possible had boasted to being the actual Mystical Master but what did that even mean?

Whatever it was, Will would be in no shape to take on the destructo-girl until he could get the barrier's power infused with his suit. Wade's tech gave him a heavy advantage — but it was doubtful to be anything that would be up to par with the girl that stopped the Lowardian Invasion.

After careful consideration, Sensei tapped the screen, rainbow pools crackling at the tip of his finger. "That's magic, man."

"I know that," Will's teeth ground together. "But what is magic?"

"Oooooooooh," Sensei leaned back into a calm pose. "It's the good stuff my dude."

Will nodded along; how was it possible that this was the man who trained Kim Possible in the mystics? He had very carefully done his research and found that Stoppable had been transferred to Yamanouchi in his Sophomore year of high school for a few weeks. Following that incident, Team Possible's resume of missions was peppered with several excursions to Yamanouchi.

It wasn't that hard to put two and two together.

"You're a nice guy, right?" Will asked after some time. Off Sensei's plain expression, he continued. "You can't possibly be proud of your prize student using your Mystical Mumbo Jumbo to destroy public property. She must be an embarrassment to your legend."

Sensei raised an eyebrow. "If you are inferring that I should tell you our secrets because of these mishaps then you are fooling yourself. It is my honor to protect this person 'til the very end."

"Well than that would mean you're in cahoots," Will chuckled, creeping very close to the old man. "That gives me jurisdiction. You must understand that. So — tell me how to stop her."

Sensei didn't flinch.

Something within Will snapped and his hands scrambled to Sensei's chest, sandals slipping off his battered feet as the short man found himself dangling in the air. A spark of blue briefly pulsated off the old man but was quickly silenced as Will's hands cracked against Sensei's collarbone, horrible pain erupting in his chest. His eyes opened just enough for Will to see the whites of his eye roll up towards the ceiling.

"What do you even think you're protecting?" Will laughed. "Come on old man. You must know you're being fool—"

The rest of Will's taunt faded into a shout that forced its way up from his lungs, a bamboo pole clashing so hard against his skull that he nearly fell over. Hand running through thin air he looked back at the girl he really thought he had down for the count. He sneered at her, bobbing in and out as she backed him across the room, pole wildly swinging as if chasing a fly with much frustration.

"You old warriors never learn do you?" Will laughed, snapping in time with the blue shield that materialized around him, the sphere once again capturing Yori, the pole stopped in place. "This is your last chance. What is this 'magic?'"

Yori looked over to her crumpled Sensei and sneered at Will Du, pulling a round gray ball from her gi, lobbing it down the pole.

Will blinked and stepped back as the ball rolled down the hollow pole and emptied into the sphere. But of course this only carried the protective shield — and the ball — with him, the distance not remotely changing. Just as he realized his mistake, the gray ball burst into a surge of knock out gas that within a second, downed Will Du and sent him straight to the floor.

Yori vaulted past the fallen agent and immediately grabbed onto Sensei, looking at him with wordless shock.

Sensei nodded and patted her back, hand folded against his chest, eventually hacking a lung and falling closer to her, bald head to her chest. His harsh breaths racked his whole body, wheezes like a sick cat.

Yori cast a snide glance over her shoulder at Will Du and gripped the knife at her hip. As the silver slid away from the hilt, a warm, bony hand encased her, holding her tightly. She looked down to Sensei and he looked up to her.

That was the night that everything in Yamanouchi changed.


	12. Checks and Check-Ins

"Are you alone?"

"Hm?"

 **The Bermuda Triangle: Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **October 27, 2007: 11:34PM**

Kimberly looked up from her exorbitant check from Big Daddy for the first time since her meeting made eye contact with the bartender. The suave man quickly noticed the pastel kiddie bracelet and blushed. "My apologies Ms. Possible. You want — an iced tea?"

"Herbal, yeah," Kimberly sighed and slid onto the stool, nervously looking over her shoulder. Over at her table, Shego was engaged in some animated dialog with Hank Perkins that was — going really well it looked. Hopefully it wasn't about her, though it probably was.

They were coworkers now after all.

"You want to keep your tab open?" the bartender asked as the passion iced tea with just a squeeze of lemon came to her grasp.

"Tab?" Kimberly's brow furrowed.

"Right — you're a kid, sorry, not used to the whole — are you going to get something else later?"

Kimberly held eye contact with the bartender for some time. "No. How much is this?"

"$9.50."

"Jeez."

Kimberly made for her utility belt but froze up, knowing full well her wallet didn't even carry that much. She bit her lip and asked for a pen. The second it came to her hand, the inky tip spiraled around her name on the check.

"What's your name?" Kimberly asked in a hollow tone. The bartender told her and she quickly began to make fast work of Big Daddy's handwriting, traces of Kimberly Possible fading into the lettering of this ginger bearded man.

Kimberly flashed a quick grin and rolled the pen over to him with the check, and jumped out of her seat, drink in hand and made her way back to Shego.

"Whoa, this is **a lot** of money, you can't just — "

"I can," she clipped. "Take it. Please."

* * *

Keys rattled against the door, clattering and chittering with each missed stab at the keyhole. Eventually, Will Du growled louder than the thud of his dropped bag of groceries and jammed the jagged key into the hole, kicking his lousy motel door inwards so that the locks would even line up.

 **The Starlet Motel: Yamanouchi, Japan  
** **November 3rd, 2007: 5:21AM**

The second the door crashed open, padded feet stampeded across the floor, furry head bowing under the moldy couch.

"Oh no! Spooky!" Will cried out, dropping to his haunches and making eye contact with the runaway Scottish terrier. "Sorry buddy, didn't mean to scare you. Daddy had a long night."

Spooky bowed his head under Will's arched hand and rubbed his face all over Will. "Thanks buddy," Will laughed softly, creaking back to his feet and sliding his belongings across the table. Peeling back the trench-coat, he briefly remarked at how silly he looked in Possible's stupid battle-suit. But...it was effective technology, and it did help a lot in his hunt at Yamanouchi. Even though that adventure ended with him waking up in some dark forest he had never been to.

He scooped a cigarette off the counter just as manically as he attacked the doorknob, and flicked the lighter in a feeble series of flashes. After several moment passed, a flare was set and he was pulling in that tobacco like nobody's business. The sweet scent scorched his throat as the little white stick burned away ash by ash.

Meanwhile, he lumbered backwards over to the ancient coffee machine. Just cheap motel grind, but if he was going to keep chuggin', it would have to do.

Water bubbling, Will trailed off the the bathroom to brush the plaque from his teeth, but froze when he saw the pale, gaunt, and scarred face staring back at him in the mirror. He really did not look his age. He was either 23 or 24 (he could never remember) but the lines in his skin were starting to make him look older than Betty.

"You missed me buddy?" Will asked Spooky who didn't really change expressions, but the tongue wagglin' was enough to let him feel a little bit more at ease. "I love you."

Will leaned into the porcelain of the toilet and brought his phone to his ears. "Hello Dr. Director."

"Hello William. How was Yamanouchi?"

"Unproductive," Will tried not to snarl. "Possible's Sensei is off his rocker. Guy made no sense."

"Mm," Betty's frown was audible on the other end of the line.

Knee bobbing up and down without him noticing, Will reached behind Spooky's primped ears. "I just want to know what we're up against. Kimberly's scaring me. You saw that shipment Wade Load sent to Fairfax right?"

"I haven't," she echoed.

"Well Fairfax is the HQ of the NRA. Jack Hench just received a massive donation from them. Kimberly's in Vegas. You do the math."

"Will," Betty's voice was a little dry, forcing some warmth that wasn't really there. "I didn't hire you to go on wild goose chases. You know where she is so just get it over with already."

"Not like that," Will shook his head. "She's bigger than just some target. If she's working a political angle, I mean — we should be worried. I'm surprised you don't care."

"She's not even of age to vote."

"Yes, but she's a lot smarter than a lot of people make her out to be," Will scratched his chin and strolled into the living room, Spooky dogging at his heels. "She's playing the whole legacy gambit and by the way — in a much more meaningful way than villains like Drakken or your brother for instance."

Cigarette still plunged between his teeth, Will pulled a dirty mug out of the sink and ran it under the faucet for a few seconds before sliding it next to the pot of dripping coffee. "If I want to stop Kimberly Possible — "

"Why do you keep calling her Kimberly?"

Will blinked. "That's her name, or her new name at least. Word on the street that is."

Will stretched his spine and looked over to his cork board; it was just as cluttered as Kim's was for Shego's. It had become something of a nervous tick for him to go about winding and rewinding the threads of time as Will got closer and closer to destroying the girl.

"I didn't realize you were so invested in this case. We do have bigger fish to fry, you understand that right? Such as Sheilah Go; she's been at large far longer and will actually hurt people who matter. I don't care about Kim Possible trying to rig a primary. She's just one person and if she steps on our toes, it won't be hard for us to fix the damages and rig it our way. So please, Agent Du, for your sake, focus."

"With all due respect, Dr. Director — " Will tensed up as he inhaled a massive breath. "You're wrong."

"Excuse me?"

The next few seconds were tense. Will smiled as he leaned back into the beat-up armchair. "You can demote me if you want but Kimberly is much more dangerous than Sheilah Go. I don't know if Kimberly realizes that just yet — but — I have a feeling about this one."

He had never spoken against rank before. Always on the fast track to success, always coming home after hours of hard labor only to berate himself for hours more on wasted time and energy.

"I won't demote you," Betty sighed after a heavy breath. "But I am pulling your funding. You've earned your stripes but we cannot continue to finance your rogue expedition — and keep in mind if you choose to follow through on this — I will need to hand your other assignments down to other agents. And even if you do stop _Kimberly_ — when you come back those agents will outrank you."

Like a punch to the gut. A cold rumbling in his nether regions; this wasn't supposed to happen. If only he hadn't been so cocky when he arrested her back in Paris. If only he took that Stoppable boy into custody after Algeria. If only he went against protocol and took Kim in for questioning at the airport anyways.

He had skyrocketed up the ranks faster than anyone else. He was the youngest agent ever to wear the Global Justice uniform. Possible was going to crush his record on that — until she gave it all up for her own conquests. But it wasn't about that, no. Sure, his ego was massive, but hey, he had a great therapist for a reason. .

One last puff from the cigarette and he spilled the ash over the counter, swiping it into the garbage can below.

"Well," Will coughed into his hand. "So be it then. I have to stop her. It's important."

* * *

"Order seventy one, looking fun! Seventy two, got your combo too! Seventy three, way to be! Seventy four, oh I got some more! Seventy five, let's hope ya—"

"Hello Stoppable-san."

"—thrive—Yori? Uh — hey! Long time no see! Didn't know you fooded here."

"Oh, I just ordered a water."

"Ah, so you did."

 **Bueno Nacho: Lowerton, Colorado  
** **November 24, 2007: 2:13PM**

Ron glanced down at the barren tray before making real eye contact with his faraway friend. "Hey, could you gimme a sec?" He turned over to the new kids he was training and took in a deep breath. "Hey dude, I gotta take this — um — I know those training videos are dumb but if you could just bang those out right quick? When I get back, I promise I'll show you the good stuff." He looked over to rest of his team working the lunch rush. "Fellas, I know you've been here longer than me today but would it be okay if I clock out for my half — "

"Yeah Ron, not a problem," the cashier girl flashed a thumbs up before returning to Customer Seventy Seven who was about to eat some Heaven.

"Thanks guys - means a lot," Ron wiped the sweat from his brow and clipped off his clip-on as he punched out from Register 2. He leaped over the bar and landed clean in front of Yori. "So what's up?"

It strained Yori's face to feign a smile but it helped.

Minutes later, they found themselves sitting outside in the cold, stowed away from potential eavesdroppers. A visit from Yori probably meant that something serious was going on, and while Ron's coworkers knew he had an exciting past, he didn't want to give them the impression that he would drop them all to go back to crime fighting. He loved his job after all.

"So...how's the ol' Yamanouchi treatin' ya?" Ron asked awkwardly. "Sorry I haven't visited or anything, my schedule's really packed right now."

"It's okay," Yori hadn't even touched her water. "Well — not really."

Ron frowned as he pulled out the Tupperware from his lunchbox. "Something happen?"

Yori hesitated so Ron jumped back in. "Listen, I didn't ask for Kim to take the hit for the Mystical Monkey Power; that was all her. We didn't even talk about it — and like — I don't know, I'm sure she has her reasons."

"It's not that," Yori looked away. "Although I do wish you were practicing the arts with us instead of — um — sorry. I don't mean to speak too pointedly."

Ron frowned. "I mean — I didn't ask for those powers. I've always been following people around, like you and Kim and I just want to do my own thing for once, ya know?"

Yori gently grabbed Ron's hand. "Just because you like to follow people doesn't mean you're not making decisions."

Ron withdrew from her touch. "I like this job; I'm happy. Sensei even hooked me up with it! Shoot — sorry," he massaged the bridge of his nose. "I've been working on my temper lately - I didn't mean to — it's just been really hard lately. Rufus is sick. Kim is gone. I don't really have any friends — well — that's not true. I have this."

Leaves rustled in the wind. Ron stumbled, "I mean — I just started but — I don't know — my coworkers are pretty chill. Like — none of us want to do this forever and we're all in the middle of a similar moment and — sorry, you're not here to listen to me rambling."

"I am, sort of," she frowned. "This is your life — your choices are real. I may not understand yet but I know Sensei did."

Did?

Yori coughed. "You can work here, that's fine. It's always fine. But people around you are getting hurt and — " She almost reached out for the boy again but thought better of it.

"Sensei's sick."

Ron bit his lip. "Like — h-he's not dying, is he?"

Yori's blank expression said enough. "There was an attack at Yamanouchi. An agent from Global Justice came as a direct consequence of your ex-girlfriend's actions."

"Oh, Will's always had it out for the magic stuff," Ron stuttered, remembering the Algeria incident. "I wouldn't _necessarily_ say it's Kim's doing."

"It is when she makes our ways something to fear," Yori touched her chest. "I know your friend means well but — you need to do something, and at this point I think you're the only one who can possibly reach her."

"Ha, well you're wrong on that one. I don't think she wants to talk to me anymore," Ron's fingers drummed against the Tupperware lid. "I'm just trying to survive right now, Yori."

Yori cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to say this Stoppable-san but — we're not asking much of you. You don't want to use your powers — fine. Don't. You're not the Chosen One. Obviously."

Ron blinked. "Is-is there someone else?"

Yori grinned.

"Y-you?! No way! You're — "

"Mhm."

Ron had to remember to not let his jaw just dangle there. "Wow."

"Yes," Yori cocked her head to the side. "I may not be as powerful as you but Sensei believes that I will carry the legacy of our school so yes — once Sensei goes on — it will probably take a few years knowing him — it'll be me."

Ron nodded very slowly. "I was kind of wondering why Sensei wasn't giving me the ol' ring-a-ding-ding via the mystery meat we serve everyone here. It's really that bad?"

It was cold.

Ron looked into his lap. "So — what do I have to do? How can I help you and Sensei?"

Yori didn't flinch.

"Stop Kim Possible. Whatever it takes."


	13. Clockwork

"Shoot, it's 9? I better call Ann. This is what I get for opening the Hephaestus Project so late at night…"

 **Middleton Science Center: Middleton, Colorado  
** **November 23, 2007: 9:08PM**

James Possible finally broke from his tablet so he could grab his phone and make a quick call to the wife that he was super sorry about missing dinner. Things had been a little strained between him and her lately; not that anything had come between them, but there was a void in both of their hearts that they didn't know how to fill.

Just as his thumb went to press the standard 7-2-0, blunt metal slipped against the nape of his neck.

"Don't move. Don't move — a muscle," a cold voice instructed.

James wasn't sure what to say so he remained frozen as a black laced hand reached past him and grabbed onto his tablet, immediately inputting codes. Codes that only a select few other people could know.

He kept his mouth shut and watched the hand dance across his work; he knew that what she was doing was wrong, but to just see the hint of her was mesmerizing. After some time though, he had to speak up; he had to be her father. "We followed you to Paris you know. Your friend Crosby makes a wonderful cuppa joe."

A sharp intake of breath, but that was all she could give. James continued, "Why are you trying to steal the Hephaestus Project?"

"I'm not," her voice quaked.

The data pull failed; these were old codes she was using, old codes that would shoot up major red flags in their security systems.

He spotted the white bandages underneath the gloves and almost cracked. "So why are you here?"

The metal brushed off his neck and settled besides him: just a stapler.

His chair twisted and he was face to face with her. Warm emerald eyes had been replaced with something a shade darker, skin pale, rings under her eyes as prominent as overdone makeup. "Kimmie-cub, what happened to you?"

She straightened her spine and tried to avert her gaze; she didn't imagine this moment being so strained. "You and mom are probably the only people left who will trust me when I say I'm not going to hurt you. At least I hope you trust me."

James' eyes scanned his daughter's body and he quickly got caught on the magazine of a gun sticking from her utility belt. He slammed his eyes shut and tried to wish away the sight, and when he reopened them, he instead found himself focused on the horrible scar that marred her abdomen.

"Kim, we all love you so much. Of course I trust you. But your hack is a major security breach. They'll be coming for you."

"Dad, I hate to use you as a prop — " Kimberly crossed her arms. " — but that's what I'm counting on."

* * *

"Well hello there, Professor Bortel."

"Hi — just give me one second to get my bid in on this — "

"Hey! Eyes up here!"

"Sure — just one moment—"

CRASH.

 **Dr. Bortel's Office at MIT: Boston, MA  
** **November 19, 2007: 1:11PM**

Dr. Bortel's computer clattered to the floor in a miserable pile of cables and strange bobble-heads. The man screamed as his custom built CPU chipped against the floor, monitor shattering and cables singed. He looked up to see Shego standing above him and immediately all that dread was replaced with fear for this woman.

"Are you going to steal from me again?" he squeaked.

She shook her head, dressed in a black suit with a green tie, and took a seat across him. "No, I wish. Bosslady just wants to talk."

Dr. Bortel blinked. "Bosslady? Well — no. You broke my stuff man. That's not cool. I'm not — " Plasma flared below his chinny chin chin. "Talk is great! Yes! Let's talk! Wh-what's up?"

"I want to know more about this military bid you mentioned a few months ago."

"For?"

Shego rolled her eyes. "The Moodulators, duh. Y'know, those messed up gadgets that really no one should have even conceived. But of course, here we are. Why did the military want them?"

"When the buyer's that big I don't ask questions," he shrugged innocently.

Shego cracked a wicked grin. "Uh huh. Well here's the thing that I don't get then — I hit up some of your contacts over in the military — and when I say _some_ I mean _all_ — and when I say hit up, I'm not talking about casual shindigs like this one."

Bortel blinked again. "How do you know who my contacts are?"

"LinkedIn."

"Damn. Ya know, I don't think that site has ever helped me out."

"Mhm," Shego drawled. "Point is, none of those guys have heard from you in a while — and to be real, aren't interested in any of your wacked out junk. No bids were made at all which means that methinks you lied."

Bortel pulled on his collar. "Uh huh?"

"So who were you actually developing that stuff for?" Shego shuffled closer and Bortel slid his chair back, but a wheel got stuck on the rubber mat and he remained glued to the spot.

Bortel drew a shuddering breath and gently pushed Shego's wrists away. "You have to promise not to tell — this group is _very_ secretive."

"We already know who they are."

"Oh, well — wait! What?! Why all the theatrics then? Geez! If you already know it's Global Jus—"

Shego pinched Bortel's plump lips together and shushed him. "I thought you said they were secretive."

Bortel blushed and looked away. "You have a lot of nerve to come down here and break my computer for no reason. What is this? Are you taunting me?"

"Uh huh, yeah, 80% taunt, 20% business," Shego giggled, cheek to her palm. "Because we know you like money.

"That's true," Bortel leaned in closer. "What do you need from me?"

Shego lifted a hand from her pocket and rolled a Moodulator out from under her sleeve, plopping it clean in front of the bad doctor.

"We need you to follow through on that deal now."

* * *

"Hola, I'd like to order a number two with extra sour cream and no rice, plus a grande sized salad wrapped in a burrito tortilla."

"Ahem. I thought we agreed it would be a number three with extra guac, hold the tomatoes, and a grande sized salad stuffed into a hard taco shell."

"Dude. We already know each other — can we just get on with it?"

"Alright fine — GWEN, CAN YOU TAKE REGISTER? THIS YOUNG GENTLEMEN HAS A VERY COMPLICATED ORDER AND I WILL NEED TO STEP OUTSIDE AND TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT FOR EXACTLY FIFTEEN MINUTES!"

 **Bueno Nacho: Go City, Illinois  
** **November 20, 2007: 12:45PM**

Hego scanned every possible peripheral while Wade Load tapped his foot against the ground. "Dude, seriously. It's cool."

"I'm just being careful," Hego's eyes were glued to some stranger walking around several blocks away. He looked over to Wade. "The hero scene has been a little askew as of late, and I don't want any part of it."

"I get that, but you've got a totally different sitch. I wouldn't sweat that drama," Wade swung off his backpack and placed it in front of the Bueno Nacho Manager. "Kim and Ron won't ever need these again and — I don't know. I don't know who else to give them to."

"Yes, the side of good has become something dubious and untrustworthy. It's too bad about the kids." Hego frowned. "Why if it weren't for her interest in Global Justice I would have — it doesn't matter. Erm. I do hate to make this awkward but — I was advised by my legal counsel to have someone look through all the gadgets before taking them in."

"Legal couns — Hego, you know me right? I wouldn't — "

"Oh don't worry Mr. Load. My client Mr. Go just works at a higher echelon of ethics. If you don't mind Hector, I'd like a moment alone with the boy."

Hank Perkins immediately held his arm out poised for a handshake. He smirked as his grip vastly overpowered the young boy's. "I don't believe we've met but we of course have mutual acquaintances — "

"I know who you are," Wade jumped back. "You're Hank Perkins. Longtime villainy consultant and Big Daddy Brotherson's number one guy."

"Hm, close, I poached one of _your_ people for our ranks and now I'm more of a liaison." Hank pulled a handkerchief from his coat and passed it over his hands. "I must say, you're very good at living off the grid. It's a pleasure to finally meet you though. Oh, and thanks for the help in Nevada."

"She didn't tell me that's what was going on," Wade growled. "I thought she was really turning a new leaf. Wait. If you know about Nevada — "

Hank nodded. "Mhm. Surprised you didn't figure it out. I'm actually here on her word."

"Which means — K-Kim works for Big Daddy now?"

"Mhm," Hank sat on a shipment of tortillas yet to be brought into the store. "Yes. The transition period didn't even take that long. She's already doing some extensive field work which brings me back to why I'm here."

Hank crossed his legs and his slacks pulled up past his ankles, showing off his high rise argyle socks. "She's been — a little apprehensive about using toys like these." He dug a hand into his blazer and pulled out a gun. Wade jumped back at the sight of it. "That will change over time but she's expressed interest in getting her old arsenal back."

Wade frowned; is that all Kim thought of him? "No way. With what she's doing? That'd be totally unethical."

"That's cute — so you would rather just hold onto everything than let all that hard work change history? Unless you want to start auctioning off to Global Justice — oh wait no, that won't work because I doubt it'll be long before they confiscate everything." He checked his nails. "That's why you're hiding right?"

Wade looked down at the ground and after some time, gently scooped the backpack up on his foot and kicked it over to Hank.

"Good boy," Hank tittered, swinging the backpack on, quickly adjusting the straps to maximum comfort. "You made the right decision."

"Can you just tell me one thing?" Wade piped up. "Is she doing the right thing?"

"Oh in this kind of game, you never ask those kinds of questions." Hank said flatly. "One last thing — and you're going to tell me the 100% truth or I will be back. But first..."

Hank pulled a roll of checks out from his jacket and handed them over to Wade who immediately flipped through them. "I'm a few years out from having a bank account."

"You're a smart kid, you'll make it work. Anywho, those are all from our mutual friend — though as you see her name's not on any of them."

Wade's eyes widened. "This is blood money. I don't want this."

"Mm, well I'll just say that she worked very hard to make sure all the funds came in from more plausible and of course legit sources. Like Nakasumi-san's toy company and Grandma Crocket's Frontier Cookies. All you need to do is deposit those at some random intervals and you'll be set. Now. Let's talk turkey. Because we now know you didn't necessarily tell her straight on this one."

Wade bristled. "Shoot. You're not hitting Global Justice are you?"

Hank shrugged it off. "Why did they want her battlesuit so badly?"

* * *

Three burly men walked into Dr. James Timothy Possible's lab, all braced for impact and ready to brawl, but were shocked to find the rocket scientist alone, sitting in a chair doing nothing but itching his ankle with a pen.

 **Middleton Science Center: Middleton, Colorado  
** **November 23, 2007: 10:08PM**

"We heard there was a security breach," Dash DaMont, a bald black man with a thick beard, said. "Did — did they get away?"

"No," James said simply.

Burn Berman, a flat faced man with red hair, stepped forward. "This wasn't just a call to get me to do your taxes again, is it? Because I'm not doing it pro-bono again, sorry."

James frowned and shook his head, pen swaying with the turn of his head. "No boys. But there was a security breach. Someone tried to hack my computer."

"Well why are you being so awkward about it?" Crash Cranston, skilled medic with spiky brown hair, asked. "Team Impossible has better things to do."

An awkward pause ensued. James laughed nervously. "Right. Sorry I'm just a little stunned, it's been a while since we've had a break-in. It's been a while, how's Global Justice been treating you fellas?"

"Oh, the benefits are good," Crash rubbed the back of his neck. "The office coffee is adequate too. Going corporate's the good stuff."

"Oh yeah," Dash clapped Crash's back. "Corporate all the way — but seriously, what's up? What happened?"

A deep breath shuddered from up above. Hesitant.

By the time the crime fighting trio looked up, it was too late and Kimberly had swung down from up above, thighs caving around Dash's thick neck, the force of her swinging body sending the two of them crashing to the floor. She rolled off him and back to her feet, body between them and her dad.

This was a moment where she would usually quip but she didn't quite have the energy for it, so she vaulted over Dash's fallen figure, twisting in the air, her claw-like hand flying from behind her and into the swinging fist of Crash. She pushed hard and his arm cracked backwards. Her knee flew into his stomach and he doubled over.

Before he could free himself from her grip, her left hand returned to her side and she pulled herself close to him, close enough to feel the warmth from his body, and brought her hand down like a guillotine, nailing him in the neck and he was out like a light.

"Kim Possible...we should've known," Dash growled as he slowly boosted himself up. "So you're a cyber terrorist too?"

"It's Kimberly," Kimberly said expressionlessly. "Common mistake. Don't sweat it."

She briefly caught her father's horrified gaze and ducked as Burn Berman swung at her head, just narrowly avoiding the blow.

Aside from spars with Shego, this was her first fight since Paris and the first time in her life where she felt the ticking clock of not just her own mortality, but of others. She was real. Breathing and contained within a vessel, just like everyone else. But now that could come to a close at any given moment. Even when not in combat.

Before, it was maniacs with their heads in the clouds that wanted to break her through some bizarre act of symbolism. People like the agents at Global Justice didn't care about that at all. They just needed her six feet under for the benefit of others.

Her arms lashed out like snakes and cracked into Burn's joints, arm held over her head like a tree branch. Her right foot swung up and nailed him clean in the oversized chin and he stumbled backwards. She then slipped into a sweep kick that pulled the rug out from under him and sent him into the same faroff place that Crash was in.

She glared an icy stare over to Dash, ready to brawl, but froze up at the sight of his relaxed figure.

"I knew you would snap one day," Dash's voice was like stones being ground to dust. "Do you see yourself right now?"

"Yeah," her throat was too tight to communicate effectively. "You think I enjoy this?"

"Obviously. You're reckless," Dash tensed up.

Kimberly's spine arched and a nervous sweat came to her, but before either party could charge at the other, a blue pen flung from her father's fingers and over Dash's shoulders. It swung in the air briefly before a loud buzzing bounced off the lab's walls and the pen quivered and grew to the size of a log.

The Hephaestus Project.

Like a javelin, the pen pierced into Dash's stomach and knocked him backwards into James' foot. The big guy stumbled forward and tried to prepare himself for an onslaught but it far was too late and Kimberly had pulled it together just in time to clothesline him with her fist, finally knocking him into unconsciousness.

Cramped fingers clenched as she tried to loosen her death hold. Kimberly looked over to her father who seemed to be in just as in pain as she was.

"Kimmie-cub, I really hope you're doing the right thing."

* * *

"So — I must admit to you, while I have had quite the fun building this Lego set together, we do have important business to discuss."

"Oh. Well poo, I thought we were just becoming friends."

"I know. It pains me too."

 **Worldwide Evil Empire: Pacific Ocean  
** **November 21, 2007: 2:18AM**

Big Daddy Brotherson sat cross-legged across Sheldon Director AKA Gemini. Both sinking into plush beanbag chairs that Big Daddy had personally brought over, the two had been enjoying the past six hours building a Lego set together.

"Perhaps another time we will continue this set. But alas, the life of a big kahuna villain is not something to remain complacent in," Big Daddy lamented. "And you yourself are a big kahuna."

"I am," Gemini licked his lips. Oh how good it felt to be placed on a pedestal for all his nefarious deeds. "While we are discussing business, I do want to ask about the recent addition to your team."

Big Daddy waved this off. "She is astute at playing my silly games. She will not convert for anyone, but I have a favor to ask of you."

Gemini leaned back in the bean bag and continued to pet his evil chihuahua. "Is it — an _evil_ favor?"

"Yes! Always," Big Daddy laughed heartily. "What do you usually do for Christmas?"

Gemini raised an eyebrow. "Ah, well — usually there's a get together. You're asking about Betty, yes? Well, we trade off shifts usually. This is my year at the gathering in fact. We like to eat a meal together and then do a Secret Santa. You know, times is so hard, we all bring just one gift."

Big Daddy thought this over, square teeth clashed together thoughtfully. "These are ideal circumstances. I will pay you handsomely if you can give a certain gift to Betty this Christmas."

"Oh, _that_ I don't know about," Gemini scratched his beard. "I haven't been as successful with the whole evil legacy thing lately and money's kind of tight. What are we talking about?"

Big Daddy grinned and slipped off the beanbag chair and with his knees bent (it barely made a difference in his height) he sauntered over to Gemini and whispered something delectably evil into his ear.

Gemini guffawed so hard it scared his own dog. "Oho! That is both evil AND affordable! Count me in!"

* * *

"Junior! I have absolutely splendiferous news for you!"

 **The Senior's Island: Bay of Biscay  
** **November 22, 2007: 3:33PM**

Junior peered over his sunglasses past the sun reflector and over to his excitable dad. "Yes Father?"

"You have a job interview!" Señor Senior Sr. stretched his arms wide and cried out this good fortune to the whole world.

One lawn-chair over, an overlarge sun reflector bristled and Bonnie Rockwaller popped out from underneath the thing, massaging the bridge of her nose and picking the dust from her eyes. "Ew, Junior no! Don't get a job."

"Yes, I second the notion," Junior tutted. "Father, why must you submit me to these things?"

Senior waggled his finger. "Ah, but Junior, I did no such thing. But we have received a letter formally requesting you come in for an interview with a new supervillain."

"Then it is for grunt-work then!" Junior shrieked. "No, I mustn't."

Senior's hands fell to his sides. "Junior, you are breaking my heart. These are jobs your father is too old to do now. Please consider it — oh also Bonnie, they want you to interview too."

Bonnie gestured at her chest. "Me? Why? I'm not a villain — "

"You did stab Kim Possible in the stomach," Junior pointed out. Senior nodded and snapped his fingers.

Senior clasped both hands to his cane and smiled wryly. "Perhaps it would help you two if I told you there are free samples of the new Le Goop being given out to everyone that comes in."

Junior and Bonnie immediately perked up.

This of course was a lie; no supervillain would be so desperate. Unless their name was Señor Senior Sr.

* * *

"Aw geez, what the heck was with that pen thing?"

"Oh — that — that's the uh — Hephaestus Project — I — um...hacked it."

 **Middleton Science Center: Middleton, Colorado  
** **November 23, 2007: 11:33PM**

Kimberly tried very hard not to make eye contact with her father as she stumbled through her lie. She stood tall above the three members of Team Impossible, each of them cuffed to a different metal console, none of them with any of the flexibility needed to escape.

Dash gnashed his teeth over at James. "Why didn't you tell us that she jacked your weapons system Doc?"

"I was just a little distracted," James flubbed. "It is my daughter that attacked me after all."

Dash shook his head and looked up at Kimberly. "You have a lot of nerve to take advantage of your own family like that."

"Trust me, I know," she drawled, bending down to eye level with these heroes. Despite the alluring ensemble Shego had construed for her, she felt so small stooping before these hulking figures. Makeup smeared and wiped from her face, body battered from a lack of sleep, and hair tousled and messy, she looked less like a villain than she did a college dropout who still partied with her school friends. "I'm not going to hurt you anymore than I already have, so if you could all chill out, it would mean a lot to me."

"So what?" Burn spat. "You want information? Well guess what? We don't have information, we don't talk, we don't squeal, nothing. You want to know if Betty Director pays her taxes? I'll tell ya that."

Kimberly rolled her eyes.

"She does," Burn said finally. "So — uh — you can beat it."

"Why would I want to know about Betty's taxes?" Kimberly sighed. "I mean — people always pay their taxes. Why would someone not?"

"It's called a 'distractic.' It's like a distraction _and_ a tactic mixed together." Dash chuckled. "And you just fell for it."

"Wow, a three second distraction, you guys _are_ good. So what's next? Are you gonna try to confuse me with some dumb ruse?"

Crash and Burn exchanged a look. "She knows about the Conf-Ruse."

Kimberly tried to ignore all this and focus on Dash. "Why would you assume I'm targeting Betty anyways?"

"Because you're a terrorist," Dash said plainly. "Du filled us in on what you've been up to. Rigging the Nevada primaries?"

Kimberly's voice was pointed cleanly at Dash but she couldn't not look at her father when explaining her motive in a way that sounded much more like a plea. "Jack Hench has no right to run for office. You know that."

"We do but there's also this little thing called an election," Dash said wryly. "Anyways, you're toast. You've made too many enemies for yourself Kim Possible and I would recommend you turn yourself in because you just might get hurt."

"I've been hurt," Kimberly growled and got back to her feet, making sure that all parties could see the horrible scar that Bonnie had planted on her during the Bermuda Triangle incident. "But I know you guys work semi-locally to this area and I need your help right now."

"We're not helping a criminal," Dash spoke for the three of them.

"Okay, fine. I'm a criminal. I do bad things. Does that make you happy?"

"No," her father said very quickly.

They met eyes for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Kimberly rasped. "But all I want is information — what is it like working for Betty Director?"

Crash almost said something but Dash quickly plugged his bald head over the tough guy's dry lips. "Stay strong men!" he yelped.

"Ugh," Kimberly groaned and knelt back down. "You're familiar with Dr. Bortel right?"

"Of course," Burn snipped back. "Dude's work is unethical."

"Exactly," Kimberly pointed. "We all know that — but this summer he told me something very interesting while Shego and Drakken robbed him at MIT."

The three Impossible recruits straightened their backs and Kimberly nodded. "He was auctioning some Moodulators off to the military and — we did some digging and found out that wasn't true. Or at least the use of the word _military_ wasn't. So I started thinking and thought, huh. Well they did jack my battlesuit so I wouldn't put it past them to buy from Bortel. Talking about Global Justice of course and before you counter that — it's already been confirmed."

"That's preposterous," Dash laughed. "Why would Global Justice want those stupid things?"

"Because maybe Betty's operation isn't as tight as she wants it to be," Kimberly held a long poker face and noticing the cringe in Crash's face, offered a smile. "I thought so."

"Crash!" Dash shouted. "What the heck man."

"I'm sorry man, I just don't have a good poker face," Crash lamented. "That's why I always ask if we can play Uno instead."

Kimberly's canines showed. "Care to tell me anything specific?"

Crash simpered under Dash's withering gaze, but this time it was Burn that spoke up.

"Du's mission budget just got cut big time."

"Really?" Kimberly propped her head to her waiting hand. "Why's that?"

"Dude's been off the rails lately. Betty doesn't like it. She can barely hold things together asi s. I only know this because she asked me to reorganize the mission money." Burn's eyes scrolled over to his two comrades and he shrugged. "Hey man, I gotta use my public accountant certification for something."

"Is that why we got assigned to track down Shego all of a sudden?" Dash asked.

"Dude!" It was Crash's turn to be angry.

"Hey, I wanna know," Dash bickered. "Those assignments are usually Du's territory. It was weird she tossed us one."

"Yeah, probs," Burn shrugged.

Kimberly looked between the three of them and then got back to her feet. "You can tell Betty I'm coming for her if you want. I don't really care anymore." She yawned as she finally pulled the gun from her belt and lazily gestured it over at the Agents. They stayed silent though her father did yelp at the sight.

"Amp down, Dad," Kimberly drawled and dropped the gun to the floor, kicking it over to Dash. "They want me to kill you guys. I guess that's where I'm at right now."

Dash's warm eyes pierced Kimberly's crumpling form.

"If anyone asks, feel free to say that yeah, I was packing but you got the gun off me," Kimberly said. "I just can't do that stuff."

"Then there's hope for you kid," Dash lamented. "You don't have to do this."

Kimberly cracked a rare smile that had no venom to it. "No. I really do."

Dash looked up at her and tried stumbling to his feet, but his legs instead slipped and twisted under his hips and folded under him. "Damn. Hey, kid. Listen. You're young and you should know this."

"What?" Kimberly shoved a hand to her waist.

"Du's coming for you."

Kimberly nodded. "I figured."

"I don't think you understand what I'm saying. You know he hates you, right?"

She froze; why that hit her so suddenly she didn't really know. "Hate's — a strong word, isn't it?"

Dash shook his head. "Kid has spent his entire life on making a name for himself — you kind of usurped every accomplishment he's ever made."

She bit her lip and looked past the men and over to her father. A lump formed in her throat but quickly evaporated as she let the cold voice somewhere deep within her escape. "Don't follow me."

Kimberly pivoted and marched towards the exit and briefly considered pausing. With a turn of the head, she locked eyes with her estranged father and remembered the whole reason she picked this particular Wednesday to do this scheme.

"Happy Thanksgiving Dad."


	14. Just Say It

"Oh, my turtle dove, I have failed us."

"Um — you — you were like only in there for a minute, Junior."

"Mhm. But she's harsher than I remembered, and Father lied. There's no Le Goop in it for us at all."

"Geez. Alright, whatever, let's go."

"No no. She requested you specifically."

"Me?"

 **Office Building: Denver, Colorado  
** **November 25, 2007: 10:02AM**

Bonnie Rockwaller clutched onto her resume, which like Junior's CV, was actually just a headshot. She had a vague idea as to who this mysterious villain was but couldn't quite articulate any reasoning that her own presence would be wanted by them. Not after what she did to them.

As she pushed through the gargantuan double doors, a cold dread came over her and she wished that she just stayed on the Senior's private island. Shoulders hunched under the weight of the door, she peered down the lengthy hallway to see an office chair swiveled towards the glass panels that separated them from the cityscape.

"Hello?" Bonnie called out but the figure dwarfed by the throne-like chair ignored her. She advanced as fast as her high heels would allow her, the click-clack echoing in the nearly empty chambers. Based on the surprisingly brief moment Junior was in here, Bonnie doubted that he even got as far as her desk.

By the time Bonnie reached the desk her legs were like jelly and it finally processed that there was no chair for her to sit in. Her voice shuddered as she called out the villain's name.

"K?"

Kimberly's hand limply fell into view. "Can you come around B?"

"Um — sure," Bonnie slowly paced around the desk, a tingle running up her spine as she saw how close they were to the edge of the room. Her eyes crawled down the length of the building and she shuddered again.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Kimberly rasped. "I know what it looks like but if you can believe it — I just want to talk."

Bonnie finally turned to face Kimberly and saw the girl much worse for wear. She looked like she hadn't slept in days and one of her arms was hitched around her Pandaroo doll. The instinct was to mock the poor kid but she thought better of it. There was something looming far back in Kimberly's eyes and she could almost see the creases where Kimberly's weak smile strained to hold the seams together.

Bonnie's heartbeat was so fast that it warranted medical attention.

"It's funny being bad," Kimberly didn't make eye contact, her words soft from watery eyes. "They keep telling me to do these things and I can never quite follow through on orders. I really don't want to hurt anyone. Everyone acts like I'm evil but — I'm really bad at it. Can you believe it? Me? Bad at something?"

"Can I sit?" Bonnie asked.

Kimberly found Bonnie's brown eyes and nodded slowly, squishing herself against the left armrest and patting the spot besides her.

Not really what Bonnie had in mind but it would be rude to stay standing, so she took the spot besides Kimberly. As her dress hiked up, her bare thigh pressed to Kimberly's ice cold skin and goosebumps rocketed from pale skin into the deep tan.

There was a loud sob that Bonnie truly did not want to acknowledge, but the feeling of their touch was electric, waves of raw emotion cascading all over them. She meekly wrapped an arm around Kimberly's shoulders and gently rubbed circles into the girl's back.

"Bonnie," now both of Kimberly's arms were encased in the stupid Pandaroo doll. She turned to the Queen Bee and her bad breath flung itself into the girl's face.

"Why did you kiss me?"

* * *

"Now is the time mein evil villains. Ve can do this. Fraulein Possible is one of us now and the Stoppable child is a layabout. No von can stop us!"

 **Middleton Museum of Art: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 8th, 2007: 11:02PM**

Professor Dementor, Motor Ed, Duff Killigan, and DNAmy all awkwardly stood in a circle outside the Middleton Museum of Art, each dressed in black sweaters and stocking caps. Fingers set a-twiddlin', each villain made eye contact with the other, even the stone cold eyes of Monkey Fist.

"Amy, vas it necessary to bring the veird Monkey Fist rock?" Dementor frowned.

"Seriously!" Motor Ed slipped in.

"Yes," DNAmy protectively hitched her elbow over the literally rigor mortis'd creation. "It's a good luck charm."

"But ve don't need luck!" Dementor shouted. "Ve're unstoppable!"

"Ay laddie, we're definitely going to end up in the pokey," Duff Killigan deadpanned. "Let's just get this over with."

Minutes later, the villains had successfully busted into the museum without setting off any alarms. They cleaved their way through the halls frantically, all the initial gusto an illusion to their paranoia that Kimberly Possible would strike any moment.

Her brutal takedown of Frugal Lucre back in Smarty Mart last summer was pretty well-known among villains, especially given the fruit's lowly social status. Factoring in the explosive finale to the Lowardian Invasion and the fact that in a drunken rage Kimberly was still able to take on a legion of baddies much scarier than anyone they'd ever met before leveling an entire nightclub — it was a headache.

After some tense amount of time had passed, they had arrived at their destination: a room showing off one ancient statuette that they were probably going to mess up retrieving anyways.

The statuette was protected by a labyrinthian network of lasers so the four villains quickly went to work. Killigan planted a tee at the dead center of the room and shouted "Four!" He swung his club and knocked ball after ball into the air. Each ball was aimed at a different laser, the precision strikes sending the ball through the gaps in the networks and clean into the source of the beam. Each swing was successful, the lasers disappearing one by one.

But this was a slow process for there were a lot of lasers.

All the while, Dementor stooped besides Killigan, muttering random gibberish to make it seem like he was contributing. After Killigan ran out of balls, Dementor pointed at Motor Ed. Even though clearly no security was present, they chose to communicate in silence through elaborate pantomime.

" _Go get the balls!"_ Dementor tried to express through big gestures that implied the man was once a thespian. His hustle took just as much energy to perform as it would have to go get the balls himself.

" _I don't want to be your caddy, man_!" It pained Motor Ed to not mime the word "seriously" somewhere in there but he genuinely couldn't figure out how he would go about doing it so he made the sacrifice.

" _Just do it!_ " Dementor punched his own hands until Motor Ed understood the importance of all this. So Motor Ed went out and carefully stepped between lasers to pick up the balls and bring them back. Even though at this point he probably could have just gone on to get the statuette himself.

It was all very boring, so eventually after Round #3 of this, DNAmy took her statue of Monkey Fist out for a walk, showing him some Victorian era art because her Monty was a cultured boy and would probably enjoy this.

But DNAmy didn't get very far and suddenly — _swoosh_ —with nothing supporting the Monkey Fist statue, it fell face-first to the floor. The rumble could have been heard all over Middleton. The three remaining villains skedaddled over to the statue and screamed because just like that — DNAmy was gone.

"We should probably beat it. Seriously," Motor Ed jerked a thumb towards the exit.

"Nein! Ve are so close to disarming all the lasers!" Dementor shrieked.

"Personally laddie," Killigan butted. "I'd be down to go grab a sandwich somewhere and come back to finish up."

Dementor slapped a hand to his helmet and bit his tongue by accident. What was a villain to do?

It was at this moment that a shadowy figure fell from up above and drop kicked Motor Ed into the floor and vanished before anyone could get a good look at them.

"Ed?" Dementor squeaked, reaching over to Motor Ed's fallen body as if he were trying to scoop a mouse from the sink. He gently lifted the bro's body and saw the floor beneath him had cracked from sheer impact. "Oy vey."

"So how about that sandwich?" Killigan offered.

Too transfixed by the cracked tile, Dementor kept his eyes glued to the floor.

Which meant he didn't notice that the shadowy figure had returned, this time scooping Killigan clean off the floor. When Dementor finally turned back, all he saw was a forgotten bag of golf clubs. "NEIN!" he shouted, rushing over to the bag and scooping out the heaviest club he could find.

Dementor whirled around and held the club before him as if it would save him. "I'M SORRY I INSULTED YOUR INABILITY TO HOLD YOUR LIQUOR! HONEST! JUST LEAVE ME BE! I'LL QUIT VILLAINY! I'LL — I'LL — I'LL BECOME A SEAMSTRESS! OR SOMETHING CHILL LIKE THAT! YOU HAVE MY VORD, KIMBERLY POSSIBLE!"

 _Tap tap._

Something primal in Dementor snapped and he hurled the golf club across the room towards the source of the noise and luck be a lady tonight, the club hit its mark and there was a loud ripping sound followed by a high-pitched yelp.

"Ow!"

Dementor blinked as he saw his golf club cleanly embedded in the wall, a pair of torn cargo pants dangling off the handle like a decrepit flag. "Vait, it can't be — "

There was a shuffling in the shadows and Dementor stood there anxiously, awaiting for the assailant to rear their ugly head. First he saw their shoulders heave under the weight of a black sweater. Next he saw a blond head slide out from the darkness.

Blond that was decidedly not auburn. Nor were the eyes green nor was the body lithe and nimble, and for a moment he considered laughing, more from exhaustive relief than from mockery. Obviously, the game was still on.

By the time the hairy knees just skimming the lining to the polka-dot underwear appeared, it was clear that this definitely not Kimberly Possible. "Oh, it's just you. Vow, for a second there I thought that — ha. Just you. Phew. I vas like, that can't be! That's impossible — "

The figure smirked. "No. But reeeeeeeal close."

Blue light sprang from the boy's fingertips and splayed Dementor flat against the wall, the helmet protecting him from whiplash that might have otherwise broken his neck.

Ron Stoppable hopped on one foot across the room as he desperately tried to plunge his legs back into his stupid loose cargo pants. How he kept forgetting to buy himself a solid belt was beyond him.

He scratched his chin, marveling at the second dent he had made in the museum. He was really going to need to cool it on the Mystical Monkey Power if he didn't want to cross any lines that not even Kimberly had made a lunge at. But it was hard.

Before, that power spawned in his love for someone he had taken for granted. Now she wasn't there anymore and he didn't know whether to hate her or to never let go. Either way, she had to held accountable — and this he knew was something he wanted a hand in. There was still hope for her — or at least — he hoped there was.

Once a thought of Kimberly could rustle out some of his most effective abilitities, now it became tangled and dangerous. Once fluid energy that could uplift things and guide them had become something ugly and lashing, no matter how hard he fought to stay positive.

Ron gently slid his hand along the shattered wall and thought about the repercussions of leaving behind such ugly damages. If he wanted people to not fear the ways of the Yamanouchi people, it all started with some base level communication. All of which operated on the same soft lie that Kimberly had made to defend him months prior.

This was when a bright idea came to him.

He closed his eyes and painted a picture in his mind of what Kimberly looked like. He remembered the prominent scar that she showcased so proudly now and set right to work.

* * *

"...just last night, a gang of super villains were arrested at the Middleton Museum of Art."

 **Doopley's: Jamaica Plains, Massachusetts  
** **December 10th, 2007: 1:55AM**

Shego snapped awake, looking up from her meager glass of water, water that hours prior had been ice. She looked up from the counter and over to the television. Dementor, Motor Ed, DNAmy, and Killigan. All swept up in one big arrest.

"While none of the villains can recall who their captor was, it should be noted that a mark was left near one of the exhibits."

Shego nearly fell off the bar stool at the sight. It was her mentee's freakin' calling card. That ugly scar that she herself had decided for Kimberly to showcase. Now it was marked into the wall as if flippin' Zoro had passed through.

"After an appearance at the Middleton Science Center two weeks prior, it is very likely that this vigilante justice was enacted by none other than Kimberly Possible. This July we witnessed the crushing defeat of Frugal Lucre by her hand. In October she nearly ended the lives of a whole history's worth of villains. With the otherwise unconnected but recent arrests of Camille Leon, Adrenna Lynn, and Falsetto Jones...also arranged by an unknown vigilante, it brings to question — "

Shego gently stepped away from the bar and quickly patted her blazer down for her wallet. She needed to pay — fast.

"Is this an intentional takedown of her former rogue's gallery? The only ones who remain at large are the nefarious Dr. Drew Lipsky, The Senor Senior Crime Family, Sheldon 'Gemini' Director, and most prominently of all, the superhero-turned-mercenary, Sheilah Go."

She really did not want to just leave a one hundred dollar bill as her payment after such lousy service— but all she had on her were hundy's and the last thing she needed was a shootout with the police because she got detected while waiting for the idiot bartender to break a hundred.

God, what a trainwreck, and truly a punch to the gut.

Especially after Drakken totally ditched her. December 10th was the night they agreed to reconvene at, but no — totes dead fished.

"The question is not _if_ — but _when_ the time will be up for these villains."

* * *

The cobbled stone was slicked in ice, hidden from view by grossly high piles of snow. Her ironed slacks dampened as she trudged along the streets. Rubbing her hands together, keen to throw up some plasma for a little toasty-roasty, she withdrew her imposing figure to not attract too much attention.

 **Washington St: Jamaica Plains, MA  
** **December 10, 2007: 2:34AM**

That newscaster had to be a crackpot theorist right? Princess really wouldn't just turn her back on everything they had done, no way. Not nearly enough moxie left in that kid for such a high scale betrayal.

Hadn't she, the wise mentor, the affirming lesbian, given this broken idealist a second chance at having real, tangible purpose?

She needed to have more faith. Yes, the facts lined up: Kimberly had surely overstayed her welcome in Colorado. For whatever reason, she missed her flight to New York on Thanksgiving. Something happened at the Science Center the night before and it was decidedly not what Shego had trained Kimberly for.

Team Impossible was the perfect jumping off point into the deep end; objectively good guys but with just enough narcissism that it violated their so-called altruism. Aligned with the very organization Big Daddy's mysterious boss wanted destroyed, it was the perfect target and an easy job.

But no. The little brat let the manchildren live. Apparently they got the gun off Kimberly — yes, Shego had access to Global Justice's mission reports — but that wasn't true. Kimberly didn't back down from what she believed in — if she wanted someone dead she would've offed them. But no, she blinked.

This wasn't the plan.

Global Justice needed to be toppled and Ron Stoppable needed to die, and by none other than Kimberly's hand. But if Kimberly couldn't even manage to ice three mooks who didn't have their hearts in the right place — damn.

Flurries of white air puffed from Shego's lips and she froze; screw it. Plasma flew up and she dove down a not often walked side street.

December 10th. The date Drakken arranged for them to meet-up to do some updates on his so called evil plan to destroy Kimberly Possible — god, she hated the whole _Kimberly_ thing.

Drakken was never one to just not show up to something — especially when it involved evil and an ice cold glass of Coco Moo. But if she wanted to take on the hard truth that Kim didn't have what it took after all — then she could also accept that Drakken had sent her on a wild goose chase as a soft way to quit on her.

Whatever. She was happier than ever so joke's on him.

"Hey Hank," Shego called into her phone while leaning against the rotting wood paneling to someone's crappy yet probably expensive apartment. "Do me a solid; I need to fly to Denver ASAP. Can you set me up for it? I'm headed to Logan right now."

"Ahem — I would if I could Sheilah but — " Hank stuttered from whatever cozy office he was holed up in somewhere in this big, wide world.

"Don't call me that."

"Got it — _Shego_ , but booking a flight for right now is very expensive and honestly we're going red on the mission budget. I can call in one of Kimberly's many favors — it'll take a day but it'll save us some — "

"What? We don't have the money — Hank. Stop. We can't be that broke."

"Well..."

"Well?!"

"Kimberly sort of — um — I passed these checks off to one of her former associates, Wade Load and — "

"Oh, she didn't."

"Y-yes...I made a faux pas and didn't check receipts but it was — it was for a lot let's just say that."

Shego was stunned to speak.

"Give her the benefit of the doubt, kid's never had more than two pennies to rub together. She doesn't get it yet, you know? It takes time."

"You're right...you're right, yeah. Yeah! She's just being really stupid and impulsive — I don't know I'm surprised. Hank, I need you to drop everything for two weeks and just focus on making sure we retain all the pieces we have lined up for the 25th. I'd keep building on it but it's not happening if I don't get Kimmie back."

"So you're going to Middleton?"

"Yeah I'll — make it work, or whatever," Shego grunted back and the line went dead.

Months prior, dead eyes looked into her dark ones and Shego kissed the child out of pity. Somehow, life was breathed into collapsing lungs and Kimberly was born. Things were good. Then the kid asked to be kissed again. So Shego obliged because it seemed important.

Now…

Kimberly was obviously head over heels in love with her — which was exactly why Shego cut her off a bit. That blind affection made her skin crawl because while endearing, it came from a bad place. Shego never had regrets — but this truly — what she did to her was evil.

And now she needed to fly over and whip the pathetic cretin off her feet and convince her that there was actually someone on this rock who gave a damn about her.

Even though that was yet another lie.

* * *

"Ron Stoppable! Good to see you!"

"Oh, hey Hego! Or um — Mr. Go? I dunno what to call you when we're like in civilian mode."

"Hector's fine."

 **Bueno Nacho Headquarters: Irvine, California  
** **December 9, 2007: 9:56AM**

Ron took a seat in the massive amphitheater besides this very real, bona fide superhero. The boy wonder had just gotten promoted from Shift Supervisor to Assistant Manager; not from any of Sensei's connections but from sheer work ethic.

"I didn't know you worked for Bueno Nacho," Hego clapped a hand to Ron's back. "What happened to the world saving?"

A little forward. Ron brushed it off. "Well Rufus has been sick lately and I'm actually taking school seriously right now so — heh, not much time for crime-fighting. I miss it though."

Ron's heartbeat quickened, the pounding so hard it almost forced the truth clean out of his mouth, but somehow he was able to restrain himself.

"We miss you too," Hego looked down to the main stage to check for time, then swung back to Ron. "I hate to ask — I've considered retiring too but the world needs kids like you and Kim."

Cold.

"I don't want to talk about Kim anymore," Ron's spine fell into its more natural state of the slacker's slouch. He had to remind himself to really lean into that chair. "She made her choice."

"Mm fair — but hasn't she been sort of playing both fields?"

Ron took in a deep breath that shook the snot in his nose. "Yeah, but I don't see how Kim being bisexual has anything to do with — "

"I meant like with good and evil."

Ron blushed. "Shoot. Okay so — maybe I'm a little homophobic. Or at least like — that was my normal. I'm working on it. I just had no idea she was — feeling — any of this." Off of Hego's withering gaze, Ron pointed it out quickly, "Regarding good, evil, AND girls. Like — how did I miss that?"

Hego nodded. "That's not really the point, Ronald."

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"It's a slow burn. I can remember watching my sister turn. I didn't want it to be true so I kind of just — she's beyond help now though. Your friend has time though."

"She does, and you know, she took out Dementor and Motor Ed and all those guys the other night. Pretty nuts. I'd say she's on her way back."

"Was that her?" Hego seemed to be miles away. "I could have sworn she just saved their lives back in October."

"She didn't — "

Hego pointed out his tiny forehead that allegedly held within it a very well-read cranium. "Most people focus on the drinking, the explosion, the evasion, and all that cooky stuff but she _still_ did the right thing."

Ron cleared his throat.

"I mean maybe she did stop them and if so good for her." Hego continued. "Whoever it was — I'm glad we have them coming back to our side."

Ron could've sworn that the man winked at him, but it was hard to say because Hego was not a particularly tactful man and when he winked it looked more like his eyelids guillotining the whites of his eyes.

"Was that a wink?" Ron asked, equally as tactless.

"Um — n-no!

Boy if there were ever a time to look straight into the camera…

The Bueno Nacho Manager's Conference begun right then and though Ron and Hego spoke no more for the following hours, too entranced by the wonderful corporate speak of their favorite fast food chain, Ron felt more plugged into his gnarly past than ever.

After the lecture ended and it was time to test out the new product, Hego rested a warm hand on Ron's shoulder. "Just one piece of advice Ronald."

Ron didn't say anything.

"Whatever Kim's going through — it has nothing to do with you."

"I know that," Ron said too quickly.

"But son — you're not — " Hego blinked in the face of Ron's sudden anger. " — stop asking why you didn't see it and think about what you see right now."

* * *

"I just thought it was funny — with you dressed up as a boy and everything. I'm sorry it messed you up."

"It didn't mess me up Bonnie, it's just — I've never felt that kind of touch before."

"...But you have Ron."

 **Kimberly's Office: Denver, Colorado  
** **November 25, 2007: 10:10AM**

Kimberly's ghostly hand loosened its hold around Pandaroo's ear and eagerly fell on top of Bonnie's hand. They exchanged quick eye contact. How had things gotten so messed up in just a few months?

Kim and Ron had been together for so long. Aside from the occasional spat, they never abandoned the other and there was such a trust that they'd always be there for each other. Absolutely inseparable. It even went as far as them sharing the same style of uniform for so long. As if they were planted in their own little universe far off from all the realities.

Most of the time, their missions were never about the work. It was just the two of them having fun. Joking around, performing the impossible, and joined as the unstoppable.

This new line of work — it wasn't anything like that. Every victory was hollow. She knew objectively that wasn't true — it was the right thing. The work was good and she was an instrument to simply give that message voice. It was the stuff that people would revel in one day but for now it felt dirty.

This moment had nothing to do with the work. This was just herself, going once again against orders so she could do something to maybe secure her sanity.

She was selfish. A worthless waste of space. No right to work alongside the others. They were more accomplished — smarter even. Possibly just better people. Somehow though, it was her show and not theirs.

Then again, she felt the puppet strings pull; Big Daddy and the others had tied them too taut at the joints. But she cowardly went along with it, hoping that one day maybe they would just commit and brainwash her to irreversibly become one of their own. At least it wouldn't have to hurt so bad anymore.

Though Bonnie's hand slowly edged away from Kimberly's, a sudden outburst of feeling snapped Kimberly's hand around the girl's like a cage.

"I took Ron for granted," Kimberly said flatly. "I've hurt him and now — I want to die, Bonnie."

First time she ever confessed that to anyone. Of course it was there — always screaming in her empty whispers. But not yet had it been so explicitly crafted into words for an audience. No, Bonnie wasn't the right one to tell. In fact, she was one of the wrong people. But that act of self-destruction made it easier. All attempts were half-hearted but she could still rest easy on finally telling the truth though it didn't objectively matter.

Bonnie couldn't think of what to say. Kimberly looked up at her. "I don't want to scare you — sorry. This isn't what I wanted."

Bonnie nodded very slowly. "I don't get it. Ron loved you. I don't. So why feel for me?"

Kimberly brushed the tears from her eyes. "Because he never understood how messed up I was. Not that I did him any favors either...but when I disbanded Team Possible he was so shocked — like he never saw it coming. But he should have. I know you said you were kidding but — it didn't feel that way when you touched me. It felt like — you understood. You saw what a wreck I was and you just went with it. Do you understand? You can say no."

"Kim, I don't really feel comfortable talking about this with you," Bonnie's hand clenched into Kimberly's dry skin. "I don't like you like that — n-not after — I don't know. Not a day has gone by that I haven't regretted stabbing you, I'm sorry. I really am. But you need to get it together; this so isn't you right now. You hurt people now. When did that happen?"

Kimberly crumpled into bad posture and finally slipped free from Bonnie. "I don't want to hurt anybody. I still believe in people. More than ever in fact."

Bonnie bolted up from the chair and loomed over Kimberly's weirdly small figure. The girl's arms mechanically hooked back around the stuffed animal.

"What happened to you?" Bonnie spat.

Kimberly had plenty of answers and couldn't decide on just one, so she stayed silent.

"If you're gay or bi or whatever, that's fine Kim, b-but I'm not a-and — why am I here?"

Kimberly's shoulders rolled back and evened out and her neck kicked out its crook. She got to her feet and let the plush fall to the floor. "May I kiss you?"

"Kim you're scaring me," Bonnie snapped. "I don't want — "

"It doesn't have to be romantic, that's something Shego taught me." Kimberly's hands came to Bonnie's shoulders, one hand thinking better of it and hopping onto Bonnie's cheek. "There's only one person I could kiss romantically anyways but I'd like to think he has more options than me."

Bonnie tried to avert her eyes but her body refused. Something kept her planted.

Rich girl with a legacy to uphold. Leeching off the success of a vain muscle head too dumb to ever do anything, blessed with piles of money from his loving father. Never would she have to try — anything. Her fate was sealed. Just stay with Junior. Ride off it forever.

All of this collected itself in Kimberly's prickly touch and her dry, chapped lips. Kimberly's technique was laughable; sloppy and desperate, something that the Bonnie of two months ago would have lauded and milked for all its worth. But something about the intention of Kimberly's solemn gaze told her that everything was okay, that she — Bonnie — was okay, and going to live a wonderful life.

"I forgive you," Kimberly hissed before tracing a hypothetical tear down the tanned skin. Soon a real tear followed. Then many more. "Am I hurting you?"

"Yes," Bonnie said breathlessly.

Kimberly's cold eyes softened and she relaxed, falling back into the desk. "Okay."

Neither said anything for some time. Bonnie began to collect her things, though her fidgeting limbs kept knocking things over.

Kimberly gestured to the door and choked, "You hate me, don't you?"

"No Kim," Bonnie's voice was so soft it even shocked her. She hesitated. "You're a good person. You just need help."

"So will you kiss me now?" Kimberly's voice didn't match what Bonnie remembered. "I'm lonely."

"No," Bonnie replied. "I don't have the same kind of love you do."

"You don't have to." Something bristled in Kimberly but it only lingered in the air. A hesitation and she turned away. "Um — can you tell the girl at the front desk I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of today?"

Bonnie and Kimberly were yards away now, planes of reality driving quickly apart.

"Sure thing K."

"Goodbye Bonnie."


	15. Bleeding

"Hello! Welcome to the offices of — "

"Can it, sister!"

"Um — I'm sorry? Oh — hey stop! She doesn't want to be disturbed!"

"Jesus Christ kid, you realize you're working for an eighteen year old psychopath right?"

"Y—yeah?"

 **Kimberly's Office: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 11, 2007: 9:03AM**

Shego glowered at the tiny girl at the reception desk. She gestured wildly to the air, sparks of plasma dazzling the grim room and knocking paintings clean off the wall. "And you know who _I_ am right?"

"Y-yes," the girl admitted weakly. "Y—you're her ex right?"

"EX?!" Shego screamed. "No! I'm not — what did she — wait wait wait wait! Who —who are you?"

Shego stepped closer, fingers dancing across the polished desk, ashes pooling at her nails as if they were cigarette butts.

The girl shrank. "Kimberly was trying to get into this gay bar — um — but you know she's underaged and stuff — so I just saw her crying on the sidewalk. I'm gay too — and — I felt bad. She told me she didn't even want to drink she just wanted to find friends so I — we went for a walk at this cute park and she said she liked me so — um — "

"Funny way of showing it huh?" Shego glanced at the double doors separating her from the root of all these problems. "And what exactly is she paying you?"

The girl coughed into her fist.

…

"KIMBERLY ANN POSSIBLE, WE NEED TO — "

It took the wooden doors breaking off their hinges and sliding against the rapidly bunching up carpet for Shego to realize any screaming was useless because Kimberly Ann Possible had flown the coop.

"Oh geez," Shego gently wrapped her fingers around the charred metal and offered a rare smile to the office girl. "Hey, Kimmie didn't mention that she wouldn't be in today or anything right?"

"No, why?" the girl slid her office chair to the open gap in the wall and stared down the tunnel for a long time. "Oh. Huh. Weird, I just saw her five minutes ago...maybe she's feeling better?"

"Uh huh, right, _or_ maybe the brat heard me coming and realized it was time to peace out," Shego shook her head. "I know she's a good kid but this is seriously — so — annoying."

* * *

Kimberly had set so many goons up for a lifetime in prison but never once did it ever cross her mind what a prison even was. Now she had that opportunity but barely any time to process it. Her view was also less awed civilian looking into the citadel and more scurrying rat crammed into an air duct.

 **Middleton Prison: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 12, 2007: 2:20PM**

At some point along the way to Middleton, she broke into a gym so she could snag a quick shower and change. Just a puffy hoodie and jeans. No boots, no utility belt, no gadgets, just her wits. The second the elevator pinged that someone was on their floor meant that she had seconds before it all came crumbling apart.

The air was so dirty here but each breath still heaved with relief. Her hands and knees pattered across metal girders. It was lonely though. Usually Rufus and Ron would back her up. Now Rufus was sick and Ron was — trying to save her life?

The nice receptionist she hired told her about it — asking with excitement if this mysterious vigilante was really truly her — and out of respect for Ron she lied and affirmed it. But the second the doors closed behind her she crumpled into something not so formidable.

Was that love? It sounded so wishy-washy to flip that over in her mind but really — was it?

Kimberly kicked a grate out of the duct and wedged herself through the hole, dropping to the damp floor, a hard pain knocking into her ankles. She bit her lip and straightened her back, neck still crooked downwards.

Immediately, prisoners perked up at the noise and caught sight of her. Some of them were the sorts of people that Kimberly herself had taken care of and now these criminals wanted nothing more than to see the girl behind bars alongside them.

"Do you really want me locked in a cage with you Rhino?" Kimberly said coldly to one particularly burly thug and that was the end of that.

It was ice cold in this stone cavern that had been carved out with little intention. If it weren't for the signs that posted where the B cells were as opposed to the C cells, she would have gotten hopelessly lost. She hit the long corridors at a quick jog, keeping her heartbeat up to fight off the dread. The reality was that as much as some people deserved to be trapped in here — there were just as many people, if not more, who deserved a second chance.

Typically, those weren't her cases. She was plugged more into the megalomaniac scene, but she still felt responsibility because she knew she had enough empathy that it should make a difference. While it was tempting to try to sneak some of these estranged and depressed prisoners out, she was there for business. Another hairbrained scheme that sent her totally off the map again.

After some plundering, her hands caved around the iron bars to Professor Dementor's cell. "Hey," she whispered, though her voice still echoed. At Dementor's dumbfounded expression, she cracked a smile that almost hurt. "Thanks for the surgery."

Dementor blinked; guy probably forgot by now that he was the one to seal up Kimberly's jagged wound. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to contain his generally verbose demeanor into a murmur. "You — you — vhat do you vant from me? It's over — I'm in jail, leave me be."

"Well we're not quite done from the other night," Kimberly grinned.

"Oh buzz off, I know that wasn't you," Dementor kept his voice tiny, his consonants constantly rising up only to fall back to a whisper.

Kimberly raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you tell?"

Dementor shrugged. "Your boyfriend has clear intentions I guess."

"Oh we broke up."

"Vhat?" Dementor considered this. "Oh that makes sense, how is that?"

"Um. Not a good time. I want to know where Drakken is," Kimberly stooped down, arms dropping to her feet. "He's MIA and it's not like him to just up and vanish without glitz or glamour.."

"Vhy vould I know?" Dementor shook his head. "Last time I saw Drew, it was over a nice cup of coffee after the invasion. Incidentally did you know vhy he has the blue skin? It's a funny story, vell, not funny haha, but — he tells it better than me, but it vas a Tuesday…"

"I'm good," Kimberly rolled her eyes. "I mean — you guys are like your own little community, you must have heard some kind of rumor right?"

"Nein," Dementor growled. "Drakken quit man. Vake up and smell the hummus."

No, that couldn't be. Drakken never quit. Heck, he'd throw an evil scheme just for the sake of practice. It was quantity over quality with that man. There were too many clear intentions to signal that he really was done.

Kimberly peered deeper into the cell and spotted Motor Ed crouched in the back. She snapped her fingers. "Hey! Up an' at'im."

Motor Ed groaned and lumbered over to the cell bars. "Haven't you had enough, seriously?"

"I'm looking for Drakken; you heard anything?"

"Why, does he owe you money?"

"What? No. I just — " Kimberly remembered watching Shego absently petting her many cats over the course of hours. The chatterbox had been so tight-lipped lately and always with such a sullen face — it had to be Drakken. Maybe she didn't like him, but for someone close to you to just peace out without even so much as a formal goodbye, unless a Coco Moo in a seedy bar in lower class Boston counted...that just hurt. " — Drakken's my next target, and Demenz is trying to convince me that Drakken quit."

"Why would I know any better, seriously?"

"Because you're his cousin?"

"Seriously?"

"Wha—yeah. Seriously."

"Hm, right, yeah, I guess I forgot about that."

"..."

"Seriously!" he chimed.

"So...anything?"

"Nah man."

"Okay," Kimberly drawled, pulling herself back to her feet. She looked down the halls; this adventure was proving fruitless. "Do you know where Lucre is in here?"

"Ugh, yeah, can't you hear him?" Dementor narrowed his eyes.

Kimberly allowed the silence to linger and realized that annoying fluorescent hum was actually the very distant chatter of Frugal Lucre. Whomever he was bunking with — she felt sorry for them. But regardless, Lucre wasn't really a better option; he was arrested and placed here before the most recent Drakken scheme.

This was just grasping at straws, and that's not a good idea when you're on a timer.

Kimberly worked far too hard tracking Shego's precise movements across Europe months prior to just give up the chase on the bad doctor. "Hey, take care of yourselves," she said softly to her audience. "Can you tell the others I said that?"

Dementor looked into her eyes for a long time before begrudgingly agreeing and wandering back off into the dark cell. Motor Ed meekly waved to her, reminding her of their surprisingly touching dialog back in Paris about gender identity, and she was off.

* * *

Was it out of character for her to be nice to villains now?

Was Ron trying to help her adjust to a new character? Could her actions somehow compromise what he was doing? Would it put him in danger?

Probably.

Shego would just tell her to let the rookie go do his thing — or maybe she would ask her to take him out. Given the current climate — her mind hadn't worked this fast in ages, not since Paris —

— why was that? —

— what was the difference between now and then —

— maybe something to do with the fact that was classified as 'evil' now —

— but still all she maintained was a trailing monologue.

"Hey! Freeze!"

Kimberly looked up from what she realized was a slouch and immediately made eye contact with a prison guard. It was the middle of the day but he still needed a flashlight turned to her face to see her. She winced as he pulled out his gun and trained it on her forehead.

"I got sights on Kimberly Possible in Block E, I need everyone to seal off the chokepoints."

The guard dropped the walkie to his belt and glowered at the kid. "We can do this one easy or we can do this one hard. I'm thinking hard. What are you feeling?"

"Easy," Kimberly smirked. "What's with the animosity? It's a little unbecoming."

"I'm sick of your self-indulgent media circus."

"O—kay. Glad we're on the same page." She kept her hands lazily folded inside her hoodie. "You're going to want to drop that gun."

"Why? Will you blow up the prison with your mystical whatever if I don't?"

She furrowed her brow; right. She forgot she had the magical whatever to stop people, and allegedly she was too unstable to control it. What—freakin'—ever.

"No," she said in a small voice. "I'm going to walk by you now, and you're going to let me by."

"Don't you dare," he growled the second her heel peeled off the floor, and it quickly slipped back to the floor, leg still bent with the intention of moving.

"I'm not going to hurt you either way — or anyone for that matter — so — just — let — me — go."

Some mild hesitation, but she didn't have time to get the full dose from him, so it was time to move.

Her sneakers scraped against the battered stone floor and the guard whirled about, scraping the floor himself as his gun flung upwards. She herself had some mild hesitation, but she was running out of time so she made her way across the floor erratically, bobbing in and out.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

First time for everything, no one had ever fired a bullet at her before. Nor had anyone ever really so explicitly sought out her end.

Then things slowed down; always a bad sign.

His aim was right-on — and she was just a person. You can't really dodge a bullet if it's already on your tail.

Her heart beat one singular time and in that gap of time, the bullet was right between her eyes. The most she could do was tilt her head back. There. Level with her mouth.

A light went off and then back on in her mind. Something clicked.

Drakken didn't torch MIT; Ron did. Not on purpose of course, but he was exploited to make that happen.

Albania didn't become a tundra overnight because of Drakken; Ron triggered the weather machine.

Drakken wasn't doing anything. Hadn't done anything. Won't do anything.

Because she and Ron did that work for him, even before she clambered into descent. Their actions, not his — not —

Drakken — was in Vegas. Day in and day out, singing karaoke because where else would an old crooner like him go?

What else could there have been and how could she have been so stupid?

Her mouth opened around the bullet and there was a horrible pain unlike anything else and her head cracked down to the floor.

* * *

"Um — w-w-we h-have a hostage situ—situation, yeah, give me space guys."

The guard dropped his walkie back to his thigh and stood dumbly before the fallen figure of Kimberly Possible. It all happened too quickly and now the eighteen year girl was splayed out yards away from him. He scratched his wrist and slowly stepped forward; this wasn't what he saw of his future but there he was — staring down at it.

From afar, all he could see were the undersides of her sneakers arching over knees, chin upturned at a right angle. As he drew closer, he could see the closed eyes and clamped jaw, hands limply curled from anxiety, skull dragged just an inch to the right, neck scrunched to her shoulders painfully.

Huh.

But no blood.

He dropped to his knees over the body and glared down the empty corridor before glancing at the body. He brought two fingers to her jawline and felt for a pulse. There was a steady throbbing. The longer it went on, the faster his own heart pounded.

He killed her — right? So what was this?

His fingers tentatively lifted off the deathly pale skin. Was this the magical ability that had rocked the news months ago? His heart quickened again. He could imagine the tendrils of power tearing from her corpse and spearing him, tearing him to pieces and — his fault. He should have known better.

He didn't want to move but he simultaneously needed to evacuate the area.

Sweat beading on his forehead, he didn't dare look into her eyes.

But her smile pulled him back in.

Blood crawled between the gaps in her teeth, quickly smearing over her lips. Two of her teeth were bent inwards, the bullet lodged between them. Her tongue lashed out from the back of her mouth and knocked the bullet into the air. It spiralled and froze between the guard's beady eyes.

Kimberly's hands flung up and gripped the guard by the jacket, shoving him backwards as she pressed against him, knee knocking the gun away from trembling fingers. "Shh, shh...you're okay, you're okay."

The guard tried to look away and Kimberly had to press a thin finger to the nape of his neck a little harder than she would have liked. He froze, eyes swirling to their peripherals to see her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Kimberly spat the two shattered teeth to the floor, tongue wedging in the new gap in her wicked grin. "I don't do that."

The guard nodded very slowly.

"So — I'm having a hard time hearing because you did just shoot me — thanks by the way, you're paying for my dental — but you said it was a hostage situation?"

He nodded again.

"Geez."

She carelessly let go of him and got to her feet, poking the flesh beneath her ears and rubbing hard circles into it. Five steps forward, three skips back, two stamps, and a kick.

"Okay. Hostage. I took a hostage. Who?"

The guard looked at her, mouth still agape.

"You want to keep your hands clean? Figure this out with me already!"

He rubbed his neck and stayed planted to the floor. "But — I — I — what?!"

"Yes! I'm actually helping you right now so do me a solid and get it together already!"

"I — I — I don't get it. Why would you help me?"

She punched a hand into her open palm. "Because it's what I do!"

* * *

"Oh, hello son. We weren't expecting to see you today or anything — is everything okay?"

"Yeah! Things are great. I'm just moving back in."

"Wait — you're doing what now? A heads up might have been nice."

 **Stoppable Household: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 10, 2007: 12:41PM**

Ron dragged his briefcase over to the staircase and looking back at his lunchin' parents and offered them a wink. "This is my way of telling you."

The first thing Ron did when he stepped back into his old bedroom was prop his shoulder against the doorframe so he could balance a few things on his hip while he lowered Rufus' cage back to his bureau. He reached in and grabbed onto his naked little buddy and gently carried him out of the cage and onto the bureau.

Rufus' eyes opened with dim recognition and he tentatively sniffed around until he was positive he was safe; his eyesight was going after all.

Ron tapped Rufus' head with his finger and left him to it while he began to unpack his belongings, which was when his door slammed shut behind him. "You know to be fair you did drop the whole Han thing the same way that I just — oh hi Yori." Ron stumbled into his briefcase, all his clothes spilling out across the floor. "Aw man."

Yori crossed through the room without so much as eye contact. Though her hair was still shoulder-length, it was tangled in the back and her skin was paler than comfortable. She spoke as if in a hurry. "Don't you think it's a bit regressive to come back here?"

Ron sniffled and wiped his nose across his sleeve. "Nah. Me and Rieger broke up and stuff and student housing is expensive."

"Sure," Yori sighed, falling onto Ron's bed during the only moment in history when the bed was made and Ron was in close proximity to the thing. "How often do you work?"

"I'm a full time employee with benefits, baby," Ron fired off a finger gun and smirked. "It's no big. Between that and school I got plenty of time for Kim's redemption arc."

"But this isn't about your friend's redemption."

The finger gun drooped and fell to Ron's thigh. He scratched the back of his neck and gestured to the air. "I mean it's one way of handling it."

"Stoppable-san, I'm saying this to you as a friend and if you do not listen to me then I will have to return to you as your Sensei."

Ron coughed and took a seat at his desk, hands clawing at his knees.

"This isn't about you; your actions aren't serving our legacy at all. Not when you're not using the Mystical Monkey Power."

"Ahem — right, about that…" Ron wheezed, trying not to make eye contact. "Heh. I mean — I am using it — it's how I took Dementor out the other night."

"And how is anyone supposed to figure that one out?"

"With Kim's spooky scar on the wall! _Obviously_ she carved it out using magic."

"Mhm," Yori said dryly. "So you're barely using your powers is what you're saying?"

"Something like that," he squeaked. "I don't really know how to control it so when it does happen — " He mimed a big explosion, rocking back in the chair and to the edge of his keister.

Yori leaned forward and pressed a cold palm to Ron's clammy knuckle. "Come home. We can learn together under Sensei."

Ron waved it off. "No, not feeling it. Not when Kim's out there — Yori, I've only ever done this stuff because of her. I know you guys want me to be all out and proud about the whole thing like in the old days but that's not my bag anymore. I just want to get this over with and go back to the humdrum life I got going on."

"If you're not going to do it for the mission, that's fine Stoppable-san," Yori's face drew very close. "But can you do it for me?"

Ron's heart had to play catch up after it skipped a few beats. His face reddening, he grabbed onto Yori's hand which remained curled and distant. "Yeah…of course."

"If Sensei passes the legacy down to me during this trying time, I'll probably mess it all up. I need things to calm down," Yori withdrew her hand and folded her legs over each other. "You understand that, don't you?"

Yori's voice was soft like it was when they first met.

"Of course I do, Yori," Ron whispered, embarrassed that he couldn't look away from the girl's mouth. "Sorry — I'm — heh — "

"It's fine," she seemed agitated. "Can you please focus?"

Yori was in it for the greater good; hence things got murky.

Kim was also in it for the greater good; but that was even murkier.

He flashed a guilty look at Yori before getting up and stuffing his scattered clothes into the bureau; his mission was much less noble. Take care of Rufus, save up money, and get a decent job after college. Oh and bring Kim back to Good Guy City. Would that change things between them?

Ron scratched the back of his neck, trying hard not to explode into a flurry of emotions Yori didn't need to know about. "You didn't fly all the way here just to talk to me did you? That'd be a lot of coin."

"Yes," Yori looked off to the side of the room and considered something before turning back to face Ron. "Don't freak out."

"Why would I freak out — "

Yori closed her eyes and spoke. Her voice dropped to a low boom packed with gravitas and confidence, like splintering wood.

"Because you do that a lot, Stoppable-san."

Ron tried very hard not to freak out. He rubbed his eyes when blue light flickered like fire from her brown eyes, the light consuming her face like a visor.

"S-Sensei?" Ron stuttered.

"Yes," Yori raised a hand to the air, fingers limply hanging from her worn out knuckle. "Yori-chan has offered her body as a vessel for this message. As you know, I am very weak, but I must implore to you that you do everything in your power to stop Kimberly Ann Possible. You have made me proud in the past few weeks but I can sense that you are not harnessing your true strength; that must not continue. You know better and it's time to take care of things. So do it."

An oddly stilted conversation from his man Sensei, but things were pretty doom and gloom as of late.

"Greg over from the Irvine location says hi by the way," Ron shrugged.

"Oh I love Greg," Sensei chuckled. "Great guy. Whenever I'm with him, I laugh so hard."

The blue light gave out and Yori crumpled to her knees, arms wrapping around her entire torso, fingers biting into her gi.

"Whoa Yori! You okay?" Ron stooped down and grabbed her shoulder. She glanced up, face veiled in cold sweat.

"He doesn't have the strength to tap into his usual powers so we thought this might be easier," Yori rasped through the burning in her chest. The color was quickly flowing back to her face. "I can't do that again. Please Ron. Just do what he says."

The two looked at each other for some time and a silent understanding came between them that maybe all this tension wasn't arising from just between them, maybe there was a gray cloud eclipsing their old journeys. She was the first to get up and brush herself off, but she quickly tripped and smashed into Ron's bureau, accidentally sweeping a picture frame off and to the floor. "Oh shoot, I'm sorry Stoppable-san, I — "

Ron reached down and grabbed the frame from the floor, eyes heavy with feeling. It was a picture of him and Kim at graduation day; her in her wartorn cap and gown and him in the spacesuit. Good times.

" — are you alright?"

Ron nodded and tossed the picture in the trash. "I won't kill her — but — I'll figure it out. My way. Something that can make us all happy."

"And what if you can't make her happy?" Yori's voice was flat. "What if she's already gone?"

Ron tugged on his collar. "She's still there — we just have to — "

"There's no time for that," Yori interrupted. "But I'm here. Sensei's here. You're here. And we made the right choices. Don't we deserve to be happy?"

"Y-yeah, b-but — "

"Stoppable-san, I'm not leaving this room until you say it."

Ron's face went as pale as Yori's once was. He stumbled over to Rufus and scooped the guy up, the little sack of warmth spreading to his clammy hand. His pinkie itched Rufus' chin and he looked back up to Yori with a look that scared even him when it reflected back in the mirror.

"If I have to — I'll do whatever it takes and I will stop her."

* * *

"Forty Six, we've got your fix! Forty Seven, here's some cheesy Heaven! Forty Eight, um — sorry about the wait!"

 **Bueno Nacho: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 12, 2007: 4:30PM**

Kimberly stood in the middle of her old stomping grounds; it was like she never left or had waded into some bizarro time portal that brought her back to high school. Standing in the upbeat fast food chain that had once been a second home to her, she still knew it was just fantasy. Her hair was cropped into that bob cut, she was missing two teeth, her stomach had a crazy scar plastered across it, and while her pain tolerance was rising fast, her wrists still burned at the touch.

Being here was a bad idea. But something about getting shot had made her very hungry. Her eyes poured over the menu, brow furrowed as she tried to find some sort of combination that cost no more than five dollars and thirteen cents.

"Miss — miss — can— can we help you?" a voice called out.

Kimberly blinked and waved to the cashier, trying to pantomime that she still needed time to think but the young person didn't quite get that and out of a desire to not commit a social faux pas this afternoon, Kimberly marched up to the counter with not a clue of what to order.

"H—hi," Kimberly spoke softly. "I — um — ahem. Hey, does Ned still work here?"

"Nah, he got promoted last week," the girl shot back. "He transferred to one of our Upperton locations so he could be a Manager."

"Wow, good for him," Kimberly looked over her shoulder and saw that a line was beginning to form. She turned back with sweat on her brow; she should have worn sunglasses or freakin' anything to hide that she was Kimberly Ann Possible, worldwide wanted fugitive.

"Yeah, we miss him but our new assistant manager is really cool. He's been really pushing us to focus on quality customer service — like he wrote us a script on how to rhyme order numbers with compliments and aw man — Ron's just really great."

"R—Ron works here?"

"Yeah, you know him? He's actually in the back right now; let me go tell him you asked — "

" — no no, that's okay, I wouldn't want to bother him — "

" — what? No way! Ron always takes the time for others, hey Ron! A girl is here to — "

"Sweetheart, stop — Ron wouldn't want to see me, we have a history and — "

Neon green light crawled up from the girl's collarbone to her face, brightening until it had smoothed her round, cherub features into something flat and expressionless. The girl winced. "What is with that light?"

Instinct kicked in and Kimberly slammed into the counter, arm falling over her head and landing on the girl's shoulder. "EVERYBODY DOWN!" she bellowed as the two of them tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Kimberly's throat was dry. She roughly pinned the girl down and looked into her scared eyes. "Stay calm. Focus on me."

She did. "Oh my God — you're Kim Possib—"

A deafening boom ruptured the speakers and glass doors became a hurricane of pain, shards firing out like Indiana Jones-styled blow darts. Tiles flipped off the floor and spiraled into the ceiling, dust and plaster raining down from the damages.

"BUENO NACHO?!"

Kimberly winced. "I am _so_ sorry."

Tiled cracked as you-know-who made her way across the floor, small waves of plasma cascading from the impact. Her teeth ground together with the ferocity of a car wash, shoulders wedged with hypertension.

Kimberly popped out from behind the counter. "Hi! Welcome to Bueno Nacho, can we — "

A gnarled hand grabbed her by the drawstrings with such force that it wedged her stomach into the counter. Shego's breath flared out in plumes. "You — are — killing — me."

"Please don't make a scene," Kimberly whimpered.

Shego bit her lip and shook her head. "Oh ho, no, we're doing this right now. You have squeezed out every drop of our mission budget and I find you snackin' at FREAKIN' BUENO NACHO! First, you dropped a fortune on Nerdlinger — "

"Which he deserved for all the volunteer freelance and self-funding he did for us!"

" — and next you bought an entire floor to an office building — "

"I didn't thinking renting would be a good idea financially!"

" —and then you hired that stupid receptionist and paid them something I don't even think I can stomach repeating — "

"I — I just wanted her to like me…."

" —and to top it all off, you bought them health insurance and a full ride to art school?!"

Kimberly cringed, snapping open an eyelid to peek at the crowd of injured customers. "Just some upper-level management problems."

"You do not get to joke — why are you missing two teeth?" Shego jammed a hand to her hip.

Kimberly's ratlike smile spread wider, the black gaps in her mouth impossible to miss. "I was on a mission — I broke into the prison here, I guess there was a hostage situation at one point, but yeah — I figured out where Drakken is at least — "

CRACK.

Kimberly's body fell backwards, legs folding up, just freezing as the drawstrings to the hoodie cut into her neck. Her limp body dangled for a moment before Shego mercifully let her go.

Clapping her hands together, Shego surveyed the damage. "Normally I'd feel bad about blowing this joint up but eh — food's pretty bad anyways."

Among the rubble a new voice called out.

"Nobody disses Bueno Nacho."

* * *

Boom.

"BUENO NACHO?!"

Slide.

"Hi! Welcome to Bueno Nacho, can we — "

Shuffle.

"You — are — killing — me."

 **Bueno Nacho: Middleton, Colorado**

 **December 12, 2007: 4:34PM**

Two voices that were unmistakably part of his life. Ron groggily emerged from the caved in backroom, trying to find some sense of stable footing, but instead he tripped and banged his head against the smoking computer.

It all transpired too quickly for it to be real. Shego was in his Bueno Nacho?

More importantly, Kim was there too? Her voice was chattering quickly, airy with a disarming sense of humor. His heart beat faster with every verbal tic of hers and his mind plunged into a branching dialog of what he would say to her.

 _Amp down Ron,_ an imaginary Kim yelled at him. _Keep your head in the game._

He wanted it to be his inner voice but no — still Kim's. Oy vey. He threw himself into a quick series of stretches and strode towards the doorway; Kim and Shego were squabbling over something. It sounded very — domestic?

No no, that didn't make sense — Kim and Shego? No. No no no no no no no.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaybe his actions at the museum worked, maaaaaaaaaaaybe Kim was on her way back to Good Guy City.

But Kim's voice was getting shriller by the second and then all of a sudden there was a loud —

Crack.

Thud.

Clap clap.

"Normally I'd feel bad about blowing this joint up but eh — food's pretty bad anyways."

By the time Shego finished speaking, Ron had already vaulted from the doorway and onto the counter, armed with a joke to brighten Kim's day.

"Nobody disses Bueno Nacho."

But Kim was nowhere to be seen.

Shego cackled at the sight of him in his silly orange dress shirt, slacks, and Mexican flag styled tie. "The sidekick."

"Not anymore," Ron grunted, stepping off the counter and into the dining room. "Where's Kim?

"Behind you," Shego crossed her arms. "Although you probably shouldn't look."

Ron twitched. "You are sick. And wrong. I think that's one of the things I used to say. It's been a minute." He reached up to his clip-on tie and clicked it off, gently setting it to the side. "But I'm still the guy who threw two aliens into space."

"Uh huh, right, except _that was Kimmie_."

The powers that be within Ron froze in their place, the waves quelling and drawing back to his center, a queasiness rocking his innards from the sudden shift; this was exactly what Sensei warned him about.

Before he could really respond, a bolt of plasma struck him right where his nerves were and he tumbled like a plank of wood, headfirst into the floor. He crumpled, body whirling across the floor, pain tearing into him from all over, as if a tidal wave was rolling him against the ground.

His vision came in and out and he caught just a glimpse of a young girl laying flat besides him, auburn hair fallen over her face, a bright pink mark peeking out between the strands of red.

"Kim — "

Unbearable pain.

Black.

* * *

Her head hurt.

She was pretty sure someone shot her earlier...prodding a finger into her mouth she immediately felt the sore gums where the teeth once were. The hand fell besides her head, fingers twitching; there was no energy left in her.

 **Kimberly's Timeshare Lab: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 12, 2007: 9:02PM**

She pulled herself off the beaten up couch that Ron helped her get into this warehouse a few months ago. "How did you know about this place?" she asked to the back of the ominous figure yards away.

"I checked your financial records," Shego turned, a cardboard container in her hand. She crossed the lab and dropped it into Kimberly's lap. "It's a salad from Bueno Nacho. I figured you'd want it."

No eye contact. But she was hungry. Though reluctant.

Shego took a seat besides her, hands neatly folded in her lap. "I'm sorry I hit you — I was out of control." She looked up from under her raven hair. "But you need to be responsible, Princess. We're in the big leagues now."

Kimberly nodded slowly. Something in her throat hurt. "Yeah. I should have told you that I was tracking Drakken." She was — emotional? She didn't want to cry again. She never cried. Now it was becoming her normal. "He really quit. Somehow he knew the MIT sitch would be enough and — he's in Vegas now, riding the karaoke circuit."

Off Shego's raised eyebrow, Kimberly scowled. "It's a hunch."

"Uh huh," Shego drawled. "Kimmie — that doesn't matter anymore. He's gone. Your stinkin' BF is too. You need to let go and look at the big picture. I mean — we're hitting Global Justice in two weeks."

"I know," Kimberly felt her voice falling back into that cold place she wasn't proud of. "But we don't need to kill anyone. Just do some investigative journalism and clear out."

"Are you kidding me?! What do I have to say to convince you that the only way to end their reign is to kill Bitty Director!"

Kimberly opened her mouth to speak but faltered under the arm of Shego.

"There have to be consequences for actions. For Betty? No more, she's gotta go. For you? Same thing. You act out of line — I take the gloves off. I'll do it again."

"Uh huh," she muttered.

"I'm serious. This isn't about us anymore — it's about the world. We have to hold each other accountable."

"I — I understand," Kimberly stared off at the distant wall. "I didn't mean to mess things up."

"Yeah — well — ya did. I have to do some more damage control — you need to make sure you're ready to off Betty when the time comes." Shego pulled a revolver out from the breast of her jacket. "You'll want to practice. I'd recommend a stranger; it's easier."

Kimberly eyed the gun nervously and tentatively pulled it from the mercenary's hand. "Is Ron okay?"

"Who cares?"

Shego got up without any signals of body language and checked her watch, quickly strutting over to the refrigerator. Kimberly turned the revolver over in her hand and caught herself staring at the back of Shego's head; it would be so easy. She raised the barrel to her own eye level and looked through the scope at Shego's skull.

Spears of anger wrinkled her face with contempt as she remembered with how deliberately Shego had abused her so openly in front of so many. Her finger itched at the trigger and she stuffed into her hoodie. This was all so real now.

She considered devolving into a puddle of tears; none of this was healthy. She wanted so badly for Shego to love her but how could that ever be when she acted like such a child around her? The backhand was humiliating but also well deserved. She needed to get serious about this.

Then she remembered how scary it felt to be in such close proximity to Ron; this wasn't the image she had in mind when she told him she wanted to go find herself.

When Shego pulled another to-go container from the fridge, she was met with the waiting Kimberly and nearly jumped. "Geez, Princess. I could really go for some personal space right now — "

"I wasn't looking for Drakken so I could stop him or anything," Kimberly's voice was clipped and curt. "I did it because I thought you missed him."

Shego stepped back.

Kimberly's jaw hurt from all the clenching. "I just want you to be happy Shego."

Shego nodded very slowly, rocking back and forth between two very polar emotions. Her fingers came in and out, retracting like claws. She frowned and a dark glint sparked in her eyes, yet still she and grabbed Kimberly by the front of her hoodie, dragging her heels off the floor. Their faces were close and Shego's black lips parted.

A questioned hovered in Kimberly's mouth, dissipating when the two became immersed in each other.


	16. Purgatory

It was cold.

The timeshare lab was always cold since she refused to pay for heat. But it was never this frigid.

Kimberly didn't want to open her eyes; she wasn't ready to surface just yet. Needed just one more second more. What happened again?

She broke into prison. Interrogated Dementor. Some trigger happy guard shot her in the face. She lived? Lost two teeth. Helped cover his tracks. Because — heroism? Went to Bueno Nacho. Almost bumped into Ron. Shego stopped that in its tracks. Leveled the store. She tried to calm the situation down. Failed. Slapped to the ground.

Right. Abuse; she needed to watch out for that.

But Shego said sorry, and then kissed her. It felt good.

So now blank slate?

No, she really shouldn't — the woman had been given a whole myriad of second chances and took advantage of each and every one but — Kimberly never gave up on anyone.

She wouldn't be doing any of this if she didn't.

Deep breath. Ready to go back to reality, Possible?

She opened her eyes.

"Oh, son of a bitch."

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 13, 2007: 7:00AM (Est.)**

Feet splayed out in front of her like a five year old, Kimberly's body was propped up against the base of a great pine tree. Its scent was strong, grounding her on this little patch of snow. Her hoodie and jeans reeked of overuse, the revolver Shego had passed onto her was still at her side, loosely clasped in her right hand. She lifted it to her eyes before checking her surroundings.

Just a chinese checkers arrangement of trees tightly packed together. Not much else going. Snow caked the landscape and the sky was a brilliant bright blue. She fixed the gun over her head to blot out the rays of sun. Her left hand patted her own body down but nothing came up. Her wallet, her Kimmunicator, any sort of arsenal — totally absent. Just the stupid freaking gun Shego kept passing onto her.

Kimberly grabbed onto a jagged plate of bark and pulled herself to her feet, foot sliding off the root and into the snow where it sank down past her ankle. Snow from all sides flanked her pants leg and trickled down to her sock. She yelped and pulled the foot out fast, stumbling back, the bark snapping off the tree, weight shifting to the other foot which sank equally as deep into the flurries of snow.

Pink cheeks chilled and held in place, it hurt to move or react to anything.

Tentatively, her sneakers plodded along the snow, the lightness in each step somewhat helping with the inevitable cave-ins, but there was only so much she could do. At least the occasional plunge into the deep cold made it easy to retrace her footsteps.

Ron and her had been trained to survive moments like these but those times fortunately never crawled up on them. Most of their training was also learned under the impression that they had the necessary supplies to make it out in the wilderness.

God, why did she have to stop the Bueno Nacho register girl from calling Ron over? He could have saved her, or her him, or whatever. They would have helped each other, she knew that.

No, that was wrong — Kimberly didn't need to be saved. Ron didn't either. They owed each other nothing. Shego was right about her; she was a stupid, entitled brat too used to the endless ego trip. Now was the time to wise up and get real.

Those black, pine scented lips to hers — taut with malice but daring from carelessness — they enraptured her every time.

The rest was easier.

* * *

Kimberly's frozen fingers fumbled underneath her hoodie, pulling it off her body, chill immediately ensnaring her thin, underfed frame. The bones pushing against her skin felt it the hardest, too cold to move, but still she persevered. Dropping down to her knees, she rolled the hoodie around her hands until they were completely covered and bound together. She strutted out to the spot under the brush that was the farthest from trees and set straight to work, using these modified forearms to dig deep into the snow.

Building a fire with no resources was already difficult, but during winter when everything was wet?

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 13, 2007: 8:00AM (Est.)**

While the snow could be melted for water, it also made it very easy for her fire to be put out, so step one was to burrow deep. The hoodie became damp fast, clinging to her arms which strained to keep moving with the thickening layer of ice weighing down on them. In the brief moments that snowflakes did touch her bare skin, shivers ran up her back that forced a horrid twitch in her spine.

If her hands performed the labor, they would have been ruined by frostbite. Even in this moment with them protected by the thick hoodie, they were very vulnerable and when she did take breaks, her fingers would sear with pain when she bent them in the slightest.

But after an hour had passed, she dug deep enough that it would be safe for building.

* * *

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 13, 2007: 3:00PM (Est.)**

It was difficult under the circumstances of a tundra; most of the wood and stone were wet from snowfall. But eventually, she found what she needed and assembled a pile within eyesight of where she woke up. She clashed stones together for what felt like hours, her anger accelerating with the growing pile of wood that ominously waited before her, so out of place in the images from her mind. So much wood demanded to be lit but instead it taunted her every time her body pointlessly crumpled over the stack.

Chest heaving, her mind bounced from place to place.

 _Why didn't Shego leave you a lighter?_

 _Because she knows you don't need one. You're resourceful._

 _Sure, but why didn't Shego leave a message? Or food? Or freaking anything? This isn't what people who love each other do when they — stop._

 _Shego doesn't love you. You know that. She told you at the beginning that it wasn't happening._

 _Yes, but that's because I was someone else._

 _No Kimberly, you are the same person you have always been; you aren't evolving. That's why she hates you._

 _Evolving? I am evolving! Rapidly too. I just don't want to kill anyone — why does that have to be a make it or break it kind of situation?_

 _It's what you signed up for, Possible. Don't be naive._

 _I just think that there's smarter and more effective ways to handle these sorts of things — like — you know — what we did for three years with Ron. Yes, our work is on a different scale now but that doesn't mean —_

 _Don't be ridiculous. If you think your actions actually mattered then maybe do a reality check. Remember the two people you thought you turned to the light side? Remember how excited you were to have had influence? Ha. Pathetic girl, look how that turned out — you even work for one of these so-called good guys now._

 _That's not fair. Me working with Shego has nothing to do with my old life. We're just in the same boat now and —_

 _Same boat? Kimberly, she kills people! You don't. Unless you want to. Then maybe we can open up a dialog._

 _I don't want to kill people — I want to save —_

 _Shut up and stop lying to me. You're angry._

 _No. I'm not angry. I know sometimes I get sad and I know it's scary but I'm not — you're lying to me too — please. People have lied enough._

 _Then maybe grow a spine, twerp. Maybe face reality and stop sabotaging Shego with your little temper tantrums._

 _I'm not mad at Shego, if anyone I'm mad at myself —_

Spark. Catch. Boom. Flicker. Flare. Fire.

Kimberly fell to all fours and her back arched painfully as a sharp cackle bellowed from within her dying flesh. She pounded the ground with her fists and looked up with watery eyes, high-pitched wheezing following the manic cacophany. She tried to catch her breath but it just wasn't happening — her throat was too dry from overtalking.

"Did — did I just say that all out loud?"

* * *

Starting the fire was one thing — keeping it thriving was another and boy did it get dark early this time of year.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 13, 2007: 4:30PM (Est.)**

Already the sun was descending and the sky was a dark blue. A constant chill threatened her, demanding her to stop but she persisted. She gathered as much wood as she could, taking no more than a moment to appreciate the warmth of her man-made fire. She would stay longer but there was no time for it.

By the time, the blue peeled away to black and she could pinpoint the stars, it was late and any chance she had of getting food that night had gone away. Sitting by the fire, she held the gun in her hand and considered its usage; she had never fired a gun before and if this were a ploy to convince her to finally give into the violence and began to do the real damage then well — Shego had another thing coming.

The gun dropped between her sneakers and she momentarily felt elation, but of course this action was merely symbolic; nothing changed between the then and the now. Not until she returned to Shego alive with nary a drop of blood on her hands.

Of course that story could also end with her dying while trying. But no — that wasn't her. Kimberly Possible could do anything.

* * *

There was a brief moment in which she bowed her head into the frigid waters of the stream that she considered staying there, letting the water seep into her lungs until there was nothing left but tragedy. But these vile thoughts left her as fast as they came and she got to her feet, acknowledging that she was probably going to get very sick from drinking water like this.

Regardless, the second day felt better than the last, mostly because she didn't have to walk around in the middle of December in just a sports bra. The hoodie had dried overnight and while the difference in temperature was only slightly incremental, she had more than enough lonely minutes to appreciate it.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 14, 2007: 6:00AM (Est.)**

It was a bit of a ridiculous ensemble but she had figured out overnight that if she severed the drawstring from her hoodie, she could use it to tie sheets of bark to her feet. Kind of like bad snow shoes. While cumbersome, they got the job done; with the force of her weight dispersed over a larger area than her tightly fitted sneakers, she barely sank into the snow at all. It seemed silly but the reality was that any liquid that came to any of her clothing put her in serious danger.

On the way back to her campsite, she froze when a rabbit crossed her path. She bit her lip and grabbed for the gun stuffed into her back pocket, lifting it very slowly. She had limited ammo with no knowledge of how to properly aim, though she could probably venture a guess.

She needed to eat. It was in the back of her head that you'd be surprised at how long a human could live without any food or nutrition but — if her theory was right and that this was all a test — then she had eleven days to keep herself fit. Because gears were already in motion for her to take Global Justice on the 25th and that was her job. No one else's. No one else would handle it with the nuance and responsibility that was required.

So killing the rabbit meant eating which meant staying strong enough to be ready for her eventual showdown with Doctor Elizabeth Director, a battle Betty would indeed survive. She was positive about this. To let the rabbit go meant to starve, to be frail, to not be fit to work. Shego would storm Global Justice and Betty would die.

So objectively, she had to kill the rabbit.

But subjectively, she could let Betty pass on; the evil woman was a puppet master with reckless abandon and performed like any villain of the story. The rabbit was just living its life, not that it had the capacity to understand the ethics at play.

How did ethics work again? The objective trumped the subjective? Was the subjective was too open to interpretation? Or was it not? Where was the line? Was she being too wishy-washy about what was right and what was wrong? How much did she really believe that stopping Global Justice was part of the solution? Weren't their greater evils that demanded attention first?

Like her?

"No Kimberly, don't go down that route," she had to remind herself out loud.

She was sobbing into the holster of the gun, magazine plunged into the snow. She only looked up when a hot breath puffed onto her forehead. An odd sniffling sound and pattering of lightweight feet on snow as the rabbit dashed back down the hills.

Her eyes tailed the creature until it blended too well with the snow and it wasn't worth squinting anymore. She wiped the freezing tears from her cheeks and surrendered the revolver to the snow. Her sneaker propped itself on top of it and pushed it down until it was fully submerged.

Arguments clouded her mind fast but they silenced when the lump was as flat as the rest of the snowscape.

There had to be another way to get out of this.

* * *

" _Hey Princess."_

" _H-hey. Hi. Am I free to go?"_

" _What are you talking about? Anyways, Kimmie, I was just passing through and found this gun. Figured you could use a second one."_

" _Second gun—no, that one's mine. I threw it out."_

" _You threw it ou—wow, why am I surprised? I mean look who I am talking to. So freaking tone deaf over here. Do me a solid, Cupcake, and look at that pack of deer off in the horizon."_

" _What about them?"_

" _Just think 'thank you.'"_

" _Why would I — "_

 _BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG._

" _Oh my God, Shego — why did you — "_

" _Consider that a hand-me-down and oh! Hey! Look! There's one bullet left."_

" _Shego — "_

" _I'm not seeing anything you'll need to use it on though. Huh. Guess it's a freebie. Anyways, gotta bounce, just uh — you know — stay safe."_

It was her third day and she still hadn't eaten. She melted pots of snow at a time and used that to drink and it kept her alive enough, but her body ached from the abuse it was being put through.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 15, 2007: 5:00PM (Est.)**

Worse yet, it was another day that had passed with no productivity. Other than — well —

— the gun was back in her lap.

It was a whole project finding the stupid piece of junk and something that drained her down to the wire. She nearly suffocated while digging. After many hours of fruitless digging, she glanced up and saw that the snowscape had taken on the appearance of a foreign planet riddled with craters. It wasn't funny but that didn't stop her from laughing herself into paralysis.

Her body fell limp, arms laying slack to the ground as her face plummeted down to the dirty snow, body twisting with each surge of laughter. Eventually she got a hold of herself and it was soon after that she found the stupid gun she didn't even want to use.

But she slept better that night. No nightmares.

* * *

Staying in Shego's luxurious room last October was a similar period of transformational loneliness, but that time there were cats to play with and a whole library of queer history to read. Here she didn't have that. Here she didn't even know if someone was coming for her.

So she turned to writing. Sitting on a tree root, back to bark, knees to her chest, wielding a sharp stone, she scrawled a messy text into the soft underbellies to planks of wood.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 16, 2007: 3:30PM (Est.)**

 _Dear Kim,_

 _If you make it out of this sitch, first off, congrats, you can graduate from being a Burnout. Obviously, you are not in a good place right now. Obviously, you are totally engaged in some depressive cycle of misery. You owe it yourself to wake up and get out. That starts with surviving this and getting away from Shego._

 _These are some things that I've been thinking about for a long time. Things I've been avoiding that I know are the right thing to do. Please commit to this plan in chronological order._

 _1\. Call your parents and tell them you love them, and mean it. Be present._

 _2\. Do the same for Ron. Tell him he doesn't need to defend my name anymore and he needs to live his own story._

 _3\. Turn yourself in. If any scary entity tries to pay my bail, refuse. Do the time, just make sure you can access literature. I probably won't get to go to college so it'll be good to use the time to learn._

 _4\. Therapy: why haven't you started that back up again? There has to be someone out there who can help me._

 _5\. When you're out of prison, try to get involved with some legit activist groups. Planned Parenthood, ACLU, Greenpeace, the LGBT Center. They're all doing it, so stand with them._

 _6\. Obviously find an actual job._

 _7\. Don't hurt anyone again._

 _It's scary how easy it is to paint such a pretty picture, and how likely that none of this will transpire. But it starts tomorrow. Go home._

 _Love, Kimberly_

* * *

Kim couldn't think straight; too hungry, too anxious. This had to be the day.

While out hunting for food, she stumbled upon several berry bushes. She picked them, making sure to keep each fruit separated by bush. Tempted to eat them now, she restrained herself because they would mean more to her when on the road. Because once she started walking, she did not intend on stopping.

It was early in the afternoon when her first target came to her: a deer. Like in her dream.

She was fortunate; she was holed up in the upper reaches of a pine tree, completely out of sight from the ground dweller.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 17, 2007: 1:00PM (Est.)**

She dropped the bustle of berries into her pocket and very slowly and intentionally made her way across a thick tree branch. Kim was so cut off from bustling civilization that it was difficult to keep completely silent, but she did her best. Occasionally there was a crack in the wood and the deer's ears would perk up and they would survey their surroundings. A twitch in the legs.

The gun was in Kimberly's back pocket. This had to be the moment; she knew that to be true but ignorance flared first and she threw herself off the branch. The deer just began to flee when her body careened into the mammal's, sending them tumbling onto their sides.

She pulled the stone she used to write her plans and raised it to the air, but the deer's writhing was too erratic and she was thrown off to the side. She made another stab at the deer but one of it's hooves nailed her clean in the stomach and she crumpled, pale hand clawing at the bony leg, holding on tight.

Then a hoof hit her wrist and she screamed loud. The patchwork of scars and scabs gushed open like they had the first day they felt an outside life. The deer's legs kicked faster, frantic and less direct, the deer sinking deeper into the thick flurries as Kim braced herself from the onslaught There was an opening and she flung her left arm over the deer's plump body, fingers digging into the short hairs for some kind of grip but it wasn't working.

Her right hand made for the stone again but it only hurt more and she didn't dare look at what had happened to her crippled wrist. There weren't many options left and the deer was somehow managing to get back on its feet. Time was running out and if she came back home that night with nothing, with the pain she was in, the only thing left for her would be one of the six bullets waiting in the barrel.

This was the only real choice left to make so she dug the gun out from her back pocket and narrowly avoided a stomp to the skull. She twisted the gun up and with no concept of what she was doing, fired a bullet that flew straight through the creature's jaw and into the brain.

Her meal was dead before Kim could even process that she made target.

She rolled out from under the fallen create, left hand arched uncomfortably onto the creature's back; it was a comforting warmth unlike anything else, though that was only possible to feel when ignorant of the reason she could even get this close to the create.

She looked down at her right wrist and saw ugly slashes of red bleeding through the white hoodie sleeve. She allowed herself one moment of rest and stumbled to her feet, once again pulling off the hoodie. Though this time, the fabric dragged the bandages clean off her right wrist. She grit her teeth and tried not to sob at the sight of the mangled mess that she was solely responsible for

The blood was out of control but she couldn't die like this. Not after taking a life from something so innocent.

She looked back at the wide open eyes of the deer and quickly began wrapping the hoodie around her wrist, knotting it and pulling until it was taut as rope. She had done this sort of thing before, just not when already on the brink of death with no resources. Generally while in her office building and with the pleasure of music to steady her nerves.

There was a flash of black that didn't seem normal and she looked back at the deer. Another flash of black and she nearly fell over despite already balancing on her knees.

Okay, so this was what death looked like. Good to know.

A minute passed and the area on the hoodie she was pressing so hard down on was soaked in crimson. With very careful precision, she undid the knot and slid an untainted area of fabric over the wound and pressed again. Quickly it blotted like she expected, but it bought her more time. Realizing the hoodie wasn't going to last, her hand leapt down to her jeans and quickly ripped off the button. She nearly fell over, the denim bunching up with the strength of her pull but eventually they flung off and onto the top of the deer, sneakers flying off. Just in socks and underwear, she saw that already it was time to readjust the stupid hoodie.

It had only been three minutes (probably) and she needed fifteen, so against all social norms she ripped off her bra, tossing it next to the jeans, and pulled her panties off and placed them in the same spot. The socks were worthless, cold enough to probably warrant amputation at some point so she didn't bother.

Kneeling besides the deer she grabbed the gun and aimed it right at the creature's stomach.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The flesh tore off the stomach, organs dragged out by chunks of meat and bone. This was absolutely insane, and she could barely hear anything thanks to the stupid bullet. It would have made more sense to get some distance going but she didn't have time.

One more shot.

BANG.

One bullet left in her but she had a feeling it might be a good idea to hold onto.

The deer's stomach was punctured now with the ghastly appearance of an exposed rib cage still clinging onto life. She grabbed the stone and jabbed it against the structure that was left, blood spraying onto her. At one point, it became impossible to differentiate her crimson from the deer's.

With one last thunderous heave, she busted through bone and created hole wide enough in the creature for her to fit into. She tossed the hoodie aside and wrapped the jeans around her self-harm and somehow still holding enough consciousness enough to work, she pulled herself inside the corpse.

It was warm.

Like being at home.

Maybe she had managed her energy with perfect precision and used every last drop for what it was worth. Maybe it was just the adrenaline giving out with no need for it to fuel her actions.

But Kim Possible was naked and halfway to Hell when she passed out inside the deer carcass.

* * *

It was the horrible howl of a wolf that woke her from her slumber. It took her several seconds to remember, _Oh right, I killed a deer, almost died, and climbed inside it so I could hopefully live_. She glanced at her wrist and saw her panties hung around them, the blood now dried. She snickered at the juvenile thought of the underwear being stained by a horribly handled period and cast them aside. The cuts on her wrist were back to scabs as if nothing transpired.

But there was a very unsettling gnashing of teeth and all of a sudden the deer rolled onto its side, a sickening crunch from mere inches away. Her hands flung out and grabbed the inner sides of the beast, adrenaline coming back to her fast as everything went topsy turvy. Then in one horrible moment, the snout of the canine tore through the deer's spine and plunged into Kim's little cavern.

There wasn't much to do but scream and tumble out of the stomach and back into the cold winter air.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 18, 2007: 2:00AM (Est.)**

It was snowing for the first time that week, the snowflakes gliding down wondrously though she didn't quite have the time nor attention to appreciate it. She got to her feet, rapidly sinking into the snow, not quite sure when she would actually touch the ground which wound up rising to her thighs.

"Okay," she said out loud to herself. "I think it's fair to say that this is the worst possible thing that could have happened."

The wolf clambered over the corpse and growled at her.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," Kim chuckled. She tried to take a step back but it was not possible with the walls of snow. "You sure you want to do this right now guy?"

The wolf dove at her and somehow she was able to catch the creature, holding its jaw and chest as they plunged together into the flurries. She rolled off of it, the wolf's back embedded in snow. Its legs kicked fast, creature twisting back to all fours fast. But it was enough of a window for Kim to make it back to the deer. Her arm plunged into the creature's disgusting innards and fished for the gun.

But of course the wolf was fast and it wasn't before long that its maw had clamped around her ankle. The teeth sunk deep and again she screamed but the tip of her finger had definitely just smacked against the holster. She grabbed a bone with her other arm and tried to pull herself in closer but the wolf had a different idea as to what should happen.

She looked back at the wolf, right into its eyes, and something dark plumed within her own emerald gaze and she could have sworn she saw the monster blink.

Kim felt the gentlest of releases and slipped through, her own bare flesh smearing itself in the deer's blood. She wedged her body against the stomach, one arm holding her in place by gripping a bone as if it were a freakin' handle on the subway. Her other arm guided her aim straight down her laid flat body and she felt the bullet just graze the short hairs on her skin before it nailed the wolf in the head.

It was disgusting to see the poor creature's head burst into skull fragments and flesh chunks, bits of brain spraying around their perimeter. But there was an elation in her heart that she never felt before, a thrill she didn't like but nevertheless appreciated.

But then of course it was back to brass tacks and the reality was that she was bleeding again with not much left to quell the inevitable death. Her instinct was to return to her but that wasn't happening, not when her footprints had been completely covered by the blizzard.

She pulled the stone out from the carcass and crawled up to the wolf, wedging the sharpest point into the flesh behind the fur. It rose and fell with the sway of her arm. Thick. It could keep her alive.

She hesitated. This had gotten repulsive very fast. But in terms of objective truths, the wolf was already dead. Even if he was in Heaven now and grimacing at the sight of her skinning his corpse, there wasn't much pain to be felt so she sucked it up and did the bloody work.

* * *

It took more time than she would have liked but eventually she found herself clothed in the blood splattered fur of the wolf, the coat granting her a warmth unlike anything that she felt in the past five days. Though it felt wrong to trudge through the blustering snow in the body of another creature, it felt better than taking the moral high ground and being found dead a few months from now.

She had to live, and at this point getting back to her fire wasn't an option. That was a dead trail All that was left was the next destination. There had to be somewhere to go. To live.

She really didn't want to die. If that were to happen, it would be by her own hand, no one else's. Bleak but real. The suicidal thoughts weren't quite out of her head yet — but seriously — not like this.

Something glimmered in the distance.

Hope maybe?

If she hadn't been suicidal — if she hadn't started hurting herself — maybe she could have brought the deer home and cooked them. But no, she made bad choices and now all that was left was the responsibility of dealing with them.

It was when she had momentarily stopped her aimless trek to lean on a tree for support. Chest heaving, aquamarine colored light shone onto the white snow, illuminating into something unearthly. Like she was on a different planet.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 18, 2007: 3:00AM (Est.)**

Two figures stood before her, both made of light.

On the right was an hourglass figure that glowed green, flickering with splotches of black floating through like an amoeba.

On the left was a slouching figure that glowed blue, flaring like fire, unlike the green woman whose power was more contained.

They each pointed a different direction and Kim's knees twitched inwards out of panic. "Ron? Shego?"

They said nothing.

"Am I going crazy?" She stepped closer and felt a radiant warmth from the plasma body. From Ron's form, she felt waves of sheer power twisting her innards. "Ron, I'm a mess. Don't look at me — I — "

They continued to point in their opposing directions, unwavering.

She looked off to where Ron pointed and though it scared her more to follow him, it was the things that scare us that we must follow through on. She passed by Ron and his hand dropped to his side. His head turned towards her as if he could actually see her and he faded away into the all encompassing blizzard. The green figure followed her for some time, hand lazily gesturing towards the opposite of her journey, slightly adjusting the angle with each step that Kim made along the way.

"How can I ever trust you again?" Kim said quietly after ten eerie minutes and the Shego-esque figure finally dropped its arm and stayed planted. The snow consumed her and soon Kim returned to loneliness. But this was better than the alternative; she made these decisions.

Her body quaked, the life draining from her fast, but something about knowing that Ron was still scared for her somehow kept her going. Part of her wished that she stayed asleep inside that deer, but another part of her knew better. Another wolf would come before long and she would be out of bullets.

She had to take the walk home.

Thankfully the gun was out of bullets; she never wanted to use that damned thing again, though she held onto it incase she ran into trouble. It served for good leverage as long as she could remain convincingly scary.

* * *

 **Town Square: Jefferson, New Hampshire  
** **December 17, 2007: 6:00AM (Est.)**

Kim rested against a tree outside of a small village. Lots of log cabins and small independent shops. It made her wonder where all the people who visited here actually lived. Probably higher up, or maybe lower down. Though all that really mattered was that it was civilization.

Very slowly, she took long strides down from her hill and walked into the square. An old man was nearby, reading the newspaper on a bench outside a diner that had yet to open. Gray, clean-cut hair with a stripe of white. Sunken cheeks and a square chin. He looked familiar. It felt surprisingly bad to tear him from his routine but she needed to be heard.

"Help me," her voice was almost too hoarse to be understood.

The old man looked over his bifocals and his jaw lowered ever so slightly, as if he hadn't noticed anything about her was particularly off-putting. Maybe she already died and she was just a ghost haunting the people that could have saved her had her arrived sooner.

She couldn't explain why it happened at that moment — maybe just those two words she uttered were enough to break the camel's back — because she immediately passed out.

* * *

She was alone and it was hot. Too hot almost. Sweat beaded down her skin and her scars tickled.

Strange. But nevertheless, the end of an overlong story.

Kim opened her eyes.

It was hard to see through all the steam. She squinted. White water lipped around her and she was back to not wearing anything.

"I have a weird life."

 **Town Spa: Jefferson, New Hampshire  
** **December 18, 2007: ?**

Steaming hot water dripped down her hips as she climbed out of the hot tub. She gripped the tiles at the edge of the pool and lifted herself, a cold chill hitting her fast. One step, two step, she froze, wincing in tremendous pain. Checking her ankle, she saw the deeply embedded bite marks left by the wolf that she had murdered.

She twisted her body around and let her feet fall back into hot water, the bubbling streams immediately granting her some sense of relief. Hands like claws, waiting at her sides, her spine slowly surrendered its alert and she relaxed.

There was music coming through thin, wooden walls and happy voices. Though desperate for human contact, and probably in actual need of some, she didn't quite feel ready to tell a bunch of townies her dark reimagining of that one weird scene from _The Empire Strikes Back._

"Ron — you brought me here, right?" she whispered out loud, volume low mostly from shame. "I guess I owe you one, huh?"

"So you two _did_ get together, huh?"

A high, chipper voice. It smashed against her spine, playing it like a xylophone until she was straight-backed and tense. She heard the pitter patter of light footsteps approaching her but something told her to remain calm even though it was a voice she hated so much.

"Kim?" he asked, a little shatter at the peak of his voice.

It was Eric. She didn't have to — didn't want to look. It was weird how she didn't have to look at him to see him — thick jeans, dark red flannel, and a hand clapped over his leering eyes.

"Get your hand off your face, you look like an idiot," she softly chuckled. Somehow, she also knew it wasn't _her_ Eric.

Her body — though incredibly guarded and private — not even exposed to the likes of Ron — felt more like an instrument nowadays. Or a tool to use more blunt language. Her mind was far off somewhere else and it didn't matter anymore. At the moment, she needed this moment at the poolside and no gawk-eyed teen was going to get in her way.

"It's just — I've never actually met you — okay," he sighed and crouched down next to her, hand still over his eyes. "I can't — a gentleman never — "

Her right hand flung up and smacked him upside the head. He yowled and finally dropped his self-imposed guard and looked down at her. "Hey."

She was fine with him in her peripherals. "Let me guess. You're the real Eric? Makes sense I guess. Synthodrone #901 had to be based off someone, right?"

"Yeah," his voice was thin. "Sorry. I mean — I don't know what happened to be honest — but my Dad was sick and when Dr. Lipsky — "

"Drakken," Kim corrected.

" — yeah," he blushed. "We needed the money and the dude said I was a real looker so I just figured — "

"Did your father live?"

Eric coughed. "You want to go for a walk?"

"In an hour. You got any paper on you?"

"Um — no," Eric stuttered. "Kim, are you — "

"Don't say that name like you know me, it's weird," she growled and finally looked up at him.

Just like the boy she remembered. Over-large forehead with a square chin and long brown hair carefully crafted into a decent mullet. "Get me a pencil and paper and we can talk in an hour. Got it?"

Eric's arms twitched as if they wanted to give her shoulders something tender and warm, but they stayed wrapped around his knees. "Okay — b-but — are you okay?"

She shook her head and held up her horribly marred wrist. "Everything already happened. Just please do this one thing for me."

So Eric left.

But when he came back an hour later, as requested, Kim was gone.


	17. i want to cry but there's no time

"Eric….Ryder? Lives on 641 Whitsett Avenue...no. Is that — oh no, definitely not him."

 **Jefferson Public Library: Jefferson, New Hampshire  
** **December 18, 2007: 6:49PM**

Kim's hands anxiously mimed typing in the brief moments between searching the internet for more information. She was very careful and delicate in this search. Archives of phonebooks on her left, scrap paper to the left, computer in front of her. She had been at it for some time now; the second Eric left the spa, she found some leftover winter clothes in a forlorn locker and snuck out fast, booking it through town until she found some kind of informational heaven like this.

She cross-referenced the Erics of Jefferson by address with the Erics of Jefferson online; matching faces and timelines and addresses to see if this Eric really was who he claimed to be. It would not shock her if he was just another Syntho-Drone. Obviously, she hoped it wasn't the case — human contact would be nice right now, but with her luck?

Really though, she should have just asked Eric what his stupid last name was and she wouldn't have to go through this dumb process.

But eventually after some very tedious internet searches, it all clocked out. Picture match and everything. Eric Stroman from 184 Kittridge St. Dad passed away nine months ago. Didn't have a mom growing up. Lived in Jefferson his whole life.

Story checked out.

"You know, typically people use our library computers for _research_ ," a scathing voice hissed. "Not _dating_."

Looking over her shoulder, Kim matched angry eyes with the librarian, an older gent with an oblong shaped head, springy black hair, and large, square glasses. A small case of deja vu, but with his forceful gaze, she didn't quite have the time to absorb it.

"I _am_ doing research," she growled.

"Mhm, well — I'm sorry to say but — " the librarian's white lips pursed together.

"What?" Kim jabbed. After three obnoxious seconds, she turned back to the computer and saw that an ad block had popped up.

"We keep a tight limit on those social media sites," the librarian chuckled. "We're closing in ten _minutes_ by the way."

Some horrible word sputtered and puttered out between Kim's lips. "Okay. Fine," she eventually grunted. Slowly, she got back to her feet and carried the archived phone books back to their original homes on the shelf.

Just as the library closed down for the night, she stepped out into the snow with her arms crossed.

Think Possible. What's next?

"Kim! Kim! Hey! Kim!"

Aw jeez.

She looked up and saw this apparently organic Eric standing before her with a sheet of paper crinkled in his sweaty palms. Breath after breath puffed up his chest and down the length of his crooked neck as he panted.

"I must have lost track of time — sorry, I — I got your paper — "

"Thanks," Kim snapped, snatching the paper from him, laying it out across her palm."What's your last name Eric?"

Eric blinked. "Stroman. Why?"

She looked up at him carefully. "Okay. Good. Sorry to hear about your Dad."

"Th—thanks, um — is something going on Kim?"

"Kind of," Kim muttered, scribbling on the paper rapidly, pencil puncturing through the thin sheet without care.

 _1\. Go vegan_

 _2\. Make statement about Hench that you stole NRA $$ to make him look bad_

 _3\. Make sure to still promote Chris Giunchigliani._

 _4\. Mail something nice to Ron's Bueno Nacho location and thank him for everything_

 _5\. Turn self in?_

 _6\. Therapy_

 _7\. Write learning curriculum and try to study in prison_

 _8\. Call parents_

"What is that?" Eric tried not to be weird about Kim stuffing her rapid fire notes into her puffy jacket.

"My life plan," she answered dryly. "I scratched one into a piece of bark while I was stranded in the woods but — um — I lost it. Well, I know where it is but I wasn't able to — um — go back to homebase?"

There was a lapse in conversation.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked.

"It'd be better if I didn't, especially because we barely know each other," her voice was still cold, but this time she caught it. "But I appreciate the thought, Eric. You don't have to keep saying sorry by tending to me. It's okay."

"Yes, I do actually," Eric laughed.

She rolled her eyes and then froze, because she saw something that she hadn't noticed just yet. The past six months had been rife with drama and to look into this gaze that she once melted into and for him to not even hesitate at the sight of her morally depraved and wretched self — she felt seen.

It wasn't her Eric but it was someone she could lie to herself and say she knew. She needed this.

Her thin fingers curled up against his thicker ones — allowing them to be cradled by this stranger. He got closer and she felt something familiar; it didn't have to be forever, but just now, tossed into a Hellscape — it helped.

"What was I like?" he asked with some smoothness.

"Cute, you were really cute," she said wistfully.

"Huh," he frowned. "We weren't — or — you and he — we weren't involved were we — you and him I mean?"

"Oh, head over heels, haha," she shook her head and let go of him, looking out at the beautiful winter sky. You could actually see the stars while in Jefferson. In the woods they were points of guidance to keep her alive but now she could appreciate them like most people in the world who could see stars could.

"What can I say? I'm a charmer," he shrugged.

"Mm, you were, too bad you ended up being straight up evil."

The Real Eric wasn't quite as plugged in to these universal dynamics as Kim so he briefly double taked before deciding to keep on his disarmingly warm smile. He very intently focused his eyes on her. "I made a mistake; I knew Drakken was a bad guy. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you did make a bad call," she kept her eyes removed from him. "But — don't feel guilty. I was vulnerable and no one could control that except me. So don't feel guilty. It could have been any guy — "

Something caught in her throat. A shallow breath flowed out with the next painstaking words.

" — or girl."

Eric said something but it came out as white noise.

Prom. Boy-just-a-friend. Evil plot. Angst. New boy. Hormones. Dance. Betrayal. Broken.

Prom. Boy-just-a-friend. Evil plot. Angst. New girl. Love. Discrimination. Pain. Dance. Lips together. Betrayal. Scarred.

Effective. Much more effective.

Eric was still talking.

Graduation. Best friend turned boyfriend. Evil plot. Angst. Break-up. New girl. Lust. Identity. Pain. Betrayed friends. Hurt family. Gun. Five to the deer, one to the wolf, more for Betty.

Her head was pounding. She reeled back like she needed to sit down.

"Kim?" Eric tentatively grabbed her shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Drakken…" she whispered.

"What about him?" Eric looked around warily.

Kim grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him forward.

"Whoa — Kim!" he cried out but it fell to deaf ears.

"Shego's my new Eric!" her voice was hoarse, eyes wide, face flushed. "She's — Drakken knew — he — he — he planted her. Oh my God, oh my God, I fell for it again — " Another wave of pale. Her hand closed around his like a vice and pulled him through thick snow. " — and — oh my god Eric. I'm — I'm freak—freaking out. I'm — shoot! Shoot. I'm so stupid, how could I — no, Drakken's in Vegas. He's not working with Shego; she's not working with him. I'm paranoid — no — he would — he has to — he — he — I played into it. I let it happen."

Eric's eyebrows arched along with the falling of his frown.

"K-Kim — ?"

"I am letting Shego abuse me — I'm not stupid," her eyes were on Eric but not her focus. "He has to know — this couldn't have just happened — unless I'm — wait. Sorry. Sorry. I've been lonely, it's easy for me to — " she gestured at him with a meaningful expression but Eric just looked plain scared. She dropped both arms to her sides and looked at him with the utmost severity. "We need to talk."

"Already?!"

* * *

"This isn't a coincidence."

"What?"

"Me being here."

 **Jefferson Inn: Jefferson, New Hampshire  
** **December 18, 2007: 8:12PM**

Eric yawned from the queen sized bed. "How do you mean?"

"I woke up in these woods I've never been in before, left here by a mutual friend of ours and the nearest town just so happens to be the home of one of my past enemies?"

He pointed at her with a coy grin. "But I'm not your enemy, I'm just the original — "

"Quiet."

Kim spasmed and dove into Eric, slamming him flat against the bed. Teeth grinding, her shadow blotted Eric's view of anything but her hate-filled eyes. "What's going on?"

Eric's wrist fell back against cushion and his hand splayed open. "Kim — I don't like how you're looking at me."

"You keep saying you feel bad for what you did to me? Prove it; tell me what's going on."

"I thought we agreed it wasn't me who — "

Her hand snapped onto his neck and he stopped talking.

"I'm not messing around. Talk."

Eric tried to turn away but her thumb pressed up against his pulse put a stop to that. His eyes peaked back at her. "I'm Eric Stroman. That's all there is — "

Another spasm like lightning and Kim's grip tightened, so many innards scrunching together and Eric's limbs flailed out, knocking into Kim like hammers. She steeled herself and the two tumbled off the bed together. She landed on her back, him on his knees.

Eyes locked again and Kim was the first to get back up, her fist pulling her through the air and colliding with Eric's cheek, knuckle cleaving through flesh and a gush of green sprayed from the fresh gash to his face.

Her fingers twitched and he glared back. He snorted and grabbed the bed banister, tugging himself to his feet, and strutting over to the bathroom.

Kim hyper-ventilated while struggling to hold herself up without the use of four limbs.

"How long?" she gasped.

"One month. It's not just me, it's the whole town," Eric opened the medicine cabinet and shuffled through for bandages. "We're supposed to kill you."

Gears turned rapidly.

"And why aren't you — ?" Kim asked, eying the putrid splatter on her hand. She flicked her wrist until it all came off. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I've done enough, haven't I?" Eric returned with a bandage sealing the ugly cut. "I should have told you immediately. I'm sorry for that too."

"Where's the real Eric?" she asked and he took a seat on the bed.

"Dead. Everyone in town is."

Kim felt light in the head, observations and information trying to click together. "What?"

"I don't know how, I just know we're all Syntho-Drones," he grunted.

"Drakken?"

"Who do you think?"

Kim nodded along, Eric allowing her a second to put it together. It was possible — sort of? Murdering a whole town and replacing them with Syntho-Drones? It was a little dark. Even for how bleak the tone had been. "Okay. I — I trust you."

That didn't sound right. But she did — didn't she?

"How did he do it?"

"I don't know — fast?"

She creaked back to her full height and fiddled with the zipper to the puffy jacket. "Take off your clothes."

"Speaking of fast…."

"I'm serious," she growled. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." The puffy jacket slipped off, immediately splashing puddles of slush across the wooden floor. Kim's arms latched onto the front of her blouse and she began plucking off buttons.

Eric's clammy hands wouldn't unclench and they couldn't meet eyes.

Her blouse flared open, lacy bra underneath. She stepped forward, boots thudding across the floor, and she shoved him onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

"This is a bad idea," Eric chimed. "You are not in a good headspace and I'm not eith — "

Her lips pursed as she waited for him to speak.

Her beat fast and she began to really feel her age, slumped over this teenage boy she didn't know.

"I'm just scared is all," he squeaked.

"I am too. It's normal." Her thighs slid up against his cheeks and her back bent so that her face could hover above his. "This is too. At least in my line of work. We call it survival."

"Have you done this before?"

"No," she clipped.

Her lips came to his and finally the tension loosened in his chest and he just barely lifted himself from the mattress, hand sliding up her jaw, finger resting behind her ear.

She was crying; the tears pooling along the creases in his thumb.

"Whoa, Kim. Chill out," Eric frowned. "You're all over the place."

"Are you going to kill me?" her voice was as quiet as a nervous child's murmur.

He twitched. "Um."

His feet slid past the banister and he quickly scooched back and away from Kim whose arms plowed into the bed like stakes. She crawled after him, eyes remaining level with each other.

"Tell me the truth, I don't care anymore," her body arched opposite his slouch and she kissed him again.

He didn't say anything so she reached down, hand tentatively grabbing his thigh. "Tell me," she hissed.

"No," he said with some finality. "Kim — if you're trying to get closure out of me, I'm not — I'm not that guy."

"I know," her hand smashed at his belt until it clicked open and she could pry the pants off him. "So what are you doing then?"

"Living I guess. Same life Eric had. We all are. But now that you're here…." his voice was empty. "I'm sorry, Kim."

Their foreheads bumped together and he was crying too.

She pushed past their nuzzled faces to look into those heartfelt black eyes.

"I didn't ask for this," he whispered.

"I know you didn't."

Clink-clink went the belt as it clattered across the floor, but that is all there was. Her fingers touched his skin and she asked it very softly, "Can you feel my touch?"

"No," he sighed. Their heaving breaths beat together. "I feel sorry for you."

Ice clambered up her throat. "What?"

He slumped back against the bed. "You must be so lonely if you're doing this. What happened?"

It wasn't meant in a mean way; she saw that in his still expression. Her body slumped into itself, arms slack at her sides.

"Kim, I want to know — you can talk to me. Please talk to me. I only exist because of you."

She tried really hard to smile. "That's a lot of pressure."

He grabbed her face and gently pulled her onto his chest. Her short hair fell past her face, just brushing his bronze skin, cloaking him in shadow. A crinkle of a smile. He pushed himself off the bed with masculine bravado — an energy Ron never quite had.

Not that it was something she necessarily wanted from anyone.

He kissed her and she felt something unreal pull taut in his cheek. It was passion and adoration almost too an excess. But it lived in the lips rather than journeying and spreading through her body.

He pulled back and smiled coyly. "Can you feel that?"

She bit her lip and answered honestly.

"No."

* * *

Warm was good.

But that's all there was: warm.

They didn't do anything scandalous; it ended at the passionate yet sterile kiss. Kim let him down easy but asked if he would stay the night with her; he said yes. So they slept in the same bed at the inn, bodies meshed tightly together, even though Eric had a home to go back to.

But it was nice to be with someone who at least liked her a smidge. Yet like everything else in life, it was fleeting.

It was two o'clock in the morning when she knew that it was time to go.

 **Outskirts: Jefferson, New Hampshire  
** **December 19, 2007: 2:10AM**

It didn't make sense that at any point she would be able to find the sapphire phantasm that lead her here, but she wanted it so badly and that brought her to a barren area so far out from Jefferson that you couldn't see even the tippity-top of the cute, wooden log buildings that were the normal for one thousand denizens.

"Ron — I love you. Please come out."

She stood there stupidly for a brief few seconds and blushed. What an idiotic, ill-conceived —

The spectre appeared and offered her a wave. She waved back and got closer. "Hi. Can you talk?"

It shook its head.

"That's okay. Um. Ron — I don't want to hurt you anymore, I miss you so much. You have no idea what's going on — I'm sketched out by this town. Eric is here. Not like — the Eric — well, this one's a Syntho-Drone too and — ugh. I'm doing it again. This isn't about me. Apparently everyone in this town wants to murder me — like they're all Syntho-Drones and want to kill me and — and I don't really have the energy to stop them — so this is like last will and testament stuff."

The figure was oddly still; but Ron had the patience of a toddler. Unless he had become a cold, cold man in the past few months, something was off. She stepped closer and pressed a hand to his chest; the mystical energy stung her splayed open hand but she left it there for his sake.

"I hurt you so much didn't I? I'm sorry. But you run an amazing Bueno Nacho now and I'm proud of you. I've always been proud of you, I just didn't say it nearly enough. You're going to do incredible things and — "

The webbing between Ron's thumb and index finger creased against her jaw and their lips came to his, but it hurt. A sharp pain like pricking your finger on something hot jabbed at her, stabbing like a flurry of needles from every fragment of impact. She tried to scream but Ron's teeth bit deep her tongue and she couldn't move. His hand flapped at her, rubbing against her body and twisting the limbs to his own pleasure.

" _You want power?_ " it was Ron's voice, but weak, almost an imitation.

"Stop," Kim whimpered, hands held up like they had been cuffed to a wall. The blue body disintegrated and the particles flowed into her like a river. She doubled over in pain and by the time she came to, Ron was gone. Vomit spittled from her mouth. She tried speaking, but no sound came out except a deep rumble. A voice she heard once or twice while visiting Japan.

" _Your time is up Possible-chan_ ," she said in his voice to herself.

Ron's Sensei.

She coughed a gob of puke to the snow and wiped the mess from mouth.

"Kimberly Ann Possible, I am administrating a citizen's arrest," a thin voice called out from far off.

She whirled around, an obscene power rippling through her chest and spreading warmth into every orifice possible.

Up on a hill yards away was the snide librarian, shaking hands clutching a revolver that may or may not have had a good shot lined up on her skull. "You've hurt too many people and now you're stalking that poor Stroman child. Don't you think you've done enough?! This needs to end."

"You don't want to do this with me," Kim tried to suppress a sob. "Please. Not right now."

The librarian winced and fired nevertheless. Something snapped in her heart and six spikes of power twisted out from her fingers, twirling into a pinwheel arrangement that caught each and every one of the bullets. Kim squeezed her wrist so tightly that it might cut off its circulation, but the power coursed through her blood and it didn't matter.

The tendrils whirled and all at once, flung the bullets back at the librarian in the shape of a hexagon.

His body jerked to the right as he desperately tried to avoid the barrage, but time slowed down. First, the glasses crumpled into worthless junk that shattered into plastic shards in the air, next the gun jerked free from his hand, twisting the fingers that once held it with a deathgrip.

She breathed a sigh of relief that only two of the six made target but then the tendrils lashed out at the snow, incinerating it back to powder, steam spiraling from the former mass of ice. More tendrils tore from her back and lifted her into the air, hobbling her up this newfound dirt path. She tried to break free from these phantom limbs but they kept her steady no matter how hard she hit, and when they finally reached the librarian, the tendrils pivoted and spun her right arm into a full 360° arc. Her arm throttled like a rocket and decked the librarian clean in the jaw.

As they both tumbled to the ground, her right fist pounded a dent into the earth besides the librarian's fallen head and her left arm raised high to bring death down to his fallen figure.

Goosebumps ran up her arms with the speed of a disease and her mind raced far ahead and glimpses the future peered back at her. She couldn't stop her hand from hammering down — she had so little control left in her, and she almost craved to just smash the man's head open so that she may return to her life.

But then she pretended that it was Ron after all that had been watching over her and the rest was easier.

It was a motion that she had been well aware of but never dared from fear of pain — but as her arm crashed down for the kill, she twisted her arm with such force that it overcame the boom boom crash and the bones giving her a frame shattered, the unstoppable force having met its immovable object. skull but just as his rigid hairs stabbed into her blunt knuckle — her arm snapped.

There was an agonizing scream, Kim's high-pitched howl of anguish merged with the deep throated cry of pain from Sensei. The tendrils fell slack besides her, suddenly translucent, crumpling like burning paper in the snow. Particles floated off and the last of the blue energy within her gave way to nothingness.

Everything that had fueled Kim Possible for the past two weeks was gone now and she fell onto her side, rolling down the piles of snow until completely submerged in ice.

* * *

Drip. Drip.

Cold. Very cold. Again.

Kim looked past her own crumpled form and saw that she was locked up in a prison cell. Knees squished against her chest, right arm handcuffed to a table, left arm limply at her side, the limb more vestigial than instrumental due to Sensei's wrath.

 **County Prison: Jefferson, New Hampshire  
** **December 19, 2007: 5:02AM**

Two missing teeth, two scarred up wrists, an infected ankle, and now a broken shoulder.

This never happened when Ron had her back. Of course, Shego was supposed to fill that role in for her but it was pretty obvious that was never going to be a thing no matter how hard she threw herself at the mercenary. .

"Hiya," that obnoxiously chipper voice. Who was it again?

Right.

Kim looked up from the darkness and saw Eric's face, veiled in shadows, staring straight at her. "Eric, no. This is it. It's not safe for me to be out there anymore."

"It's not safe, you're right," Eric whispered, peeling the bandage off his face. Syntho-Goo spilled from his cheek and singed one of the cell bars. He slapped the bandage back on and jerked the bar out of the prison, keeping it in hand as a possible weapon. Through the new gap in the cell, he held out a gloved hand for her to grab onto. "But that doesn't mean you have to let that seal you away."

She shook her head. "No. I'm done."

Eric's tiny teeth flashed as he chuckled. "Come on Kim, that's quitter talk!"

She felt her heart pound one singular time; a boy that mattered so much to her told her that very thing a long time ago and it breathed life back into her. Though what Eric said was nostalgia, history did not repeat itself and she stayed stagnant. But for his sake, just to make him believe he could do good, she nodded.

"Alright. Let's make this happen."

* * *

"Eric, slow down — I'm seriously like not in a good state right now. He broke my arm."

"Your arm — what? What happened exactly?"

"Ron's mentor guy like possessed my body with his Mystical Monkey Power so I could murder that librarian."

"Mystical Monkey Power?"

"Yeah it's a whole thing — I'll catch you up later."

 **Jefferson Rooftops: Jefferson, New Hampshire  
** **December 19, 2007: 5:32AM**

The sun was just peeking past the mountain tops and shined the rays down bounced off the perfectly white snow — an almost blinding light that made the two of them so much more obvious strewn out across the flat plane of pure white.

"Kim, are you serious though?" Eric said, dropping a firearm into Kim's makeshift sling. "You should have let the old man kill the librarian off for you."

"What? Eric, no, I don't kill — "

"And just what do you think that librarian was about to do to you?"

Deep red flashed in Eric's eyes and Kim had to take a step back. Was this normal?

"He's a Syntho-Drone, remember?" Eric frowned. "He's not real!"

"You're real though."

"I'm different — I was programmed to have feeling so we could fall in love — " he quickly averted her eye contact following her own abrupt turn. " — he wasn't. None of the other Syntho-Drones were made like me. They want you dead. So kill them. Who cares? They're just deranged science projects."

Kim's chin dipped down and she frowned, bouncing the gun up and down in her sling like a baby.

"I'll use it to threaten someone if I need to but I am not — under any circumstances — hurting anyone else and don't you dare ask me to do that again."

"I didn't — "

"No. You did. It's fine."

Eric's wide mouth compressed itself and he cooly watched her lead them through the brightening town square. "Kim, why are you walking over there? We need to get out of town"

"Because I want to say goodbye to the librarian."

Eric stayed planted though a tremendous anger urged him to follow her.

The librarian was leaning up against the stone wall to the county jail, jaw bruised purple, eyes straining to see without glasses. He was tending to his own wounds with a heavy heart, voice low as he spoke into his cell phone. "Yes, the girl seemed to be in a lot of pain when I came back to — no, I haven't checked on — you're right. Okay. Okay. I'll — "

Something caught his eye.

" — I have to go, see you soon."

The librarian dropped the cell phone to his side. "Um — you're f—feeling better then?"

Kim shrugged with one shoulder. "You feeling okay?"

"I've never been punched before so I guess it's good to know for reference next time I read a violent book next."

What a weirdly calm reaction from someone who was about to straight up murder her. But something about it clicked and she understood that this was a person she was seeing, and she hoped that he understood that too.

Kim nodded very slowly, voice scratchy and high. "I tried to save you."

"Kim," Eric stepped forwards but Kim's fingers gently pushed past the sling; he frozen.

"I did too," the librarian rasped. "I'm glad you're alright, but you shouldn't be walking around in your condition. Please let me take you back in; you need help Kimberly."

"It's Kim," like shattered crystals, "Just Kim is okay."

Eric looked from the older man to the girl and made to say something when his revolver fell back at his feet. "Kim — d-don't do that — he wants to kill you — "

She didn't recall lifting her feet to make every step; it was more like levitating when she crossed the town square and wrapped her good arm around the shoulders of the librarian, bowing his head onto her cracked bone.

"Kim!" Eric sputtered.

"Shut up," Kim's voice was soft and her hand dove down to the belt of the librarian. There was a clinking and a twitching from the old man as he tried to pull away from her but it wasn't before long that she snatched the gun from his person and angled it clean against his skull.

Snow glided down from all around.

"I'm sorry that you have to see this," Kim closed her eyes and twisted the gun in her hand, magazine shoved between fingers, barrel running along her scars.

Bang.

A horrible scream and Eric tumbled in a heap, Syntho-Goo spilling fast from his knee. She didn't look, limp fingers dropping the gun and clawing into the flesh of the librarian's twitching hand. "I'm sorry you had to see that but Eric Stroman died a year ago. His DNA was used to make two clones: one that died during the Li'l Diablo Invasion, the other the one you are seeing right here. This is what you call a Syntho-Drone."

"What?" the librarian was sobbing. "What did you just do?!"

"It'll make sense later, do you remember what I just told you? Repeat it."

Eric writhed on the ground, body decompressing fast, deflating hands slapping at the open wound.

"Eric Stro—Stroman died — a y—year ago? A—and — clones? Lit—little Diablos and — and — no — th—that can't be."

"It is. Remember his name: Doctor Drakken. Oh and call the police, they'll want to know." Kim let go and strutted back to Eric, kneeling down so that his crinkled neck could twist up just enough to match eyes with her. "You lose. Again."

His voice bubbled and gurgled but nothing came out. Cheeks peeled away from the once handsome facial structure, and fully round eyes stared up at her with nothing less than pure contempt.

But then a sick delight glazed over those eyes and as the finality of the Syntho-Goo tumbled into the snow and his chin perched perfectly on top of a small mound of ice, a flicker stretched in his mouth that expanded to the width of what was left of his face, sharp corners arched as high as the eyes.

"You got what you wanted from me again, huh?" the dry lump in Kim's throat made even this tough to say. "You're my last one, I promise you that."

Whatever gray matter was within him had already tumbled out; this was just soliloquy.

A minute passed and Kim Possible was back to being out of sight from all of civilization.

* * *

It was strange to walk away from that whole experience and to immediately begin building to survive the night. While it would have been logical to stay in town, she needed to keep moving.

So enraptured in her own thoughts, she didn't even notice the phantasmal green that lingered before her until she walked straight into it.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 19, 2007: 6:00PM (Est.)**

Though Kim could still see the smooth white horizon through the fiery emerald tint, her right shoulder ached from so suddenly colliding into this apparently tangible figure. Rubbing the sore spot, she looked up at this statuesque phantasm and followed its trailing fingers. Again like a compass, it was trying to guide her.

"I'm not your puppet," Kim said.

A loud gust swept through the open space.

Something snapped within Kim and she charged forward, thrusting the firewood in her hand through the stomach of the fire. The figure doubled over from the pointed strike and Kim quickly pulled the wood back, green light blazing and blistering away. Still staring at the green woman, Kim dropped the lit plank onto her pile and almost instantaneously, a fire roared as if oil had been tossed over it.

As the green flame flickered between them, she caught brief glimpses of a blanche white face with oily black lips grinning to her.

"You don't control me," Kim's fist tightened.

There was a soft cackle, deceptively innocent like a schoolyard bully who didn't know any better.

Kim's only release was to use her thumb to massage the vibrating tendons in her fingers.

* * *

With the quickly thickening landscape of snow, it was pointless to attempt to use her footprints as a map, so Kim stubbornly focused on cleaving clean through in one singular direction, though it was all completely arbitrary.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 20, 2007: 12:00PM (Est.)**

It took Kim's breath away when she found a deer staring straight at her from afar. Though the guilt sent her hand clawing to her chest, she marched forward with very deliberate energy.

Maybe it was the steady beat of her heart, or the love in her eyes, but the deer did not run when Kim stood beside it and gently rubbed its neck, offering a quick itch behind the ears. The deer did not look at her but its form became more visibly still than she could have even understood from far away.

Kim woke up, her head propped up against the sack of pulsating heat that was the deer's body. Bony legs bent around her, she felt oddly snug and lucid, and she didn't dare move for the deer's sake.

This dynamic continued into the next day and she counted her blessings that this doe was so intent on staying at her side, the creature hitting a light skip to catch up every time it chose to stay behind to nip at the berry bushes.

Vomit built in her stomach and surged up to her throat at the sight of the sickly cute creature. At some point, she would get hungry and that might end in some violence.

But for now it was nice.

* * *

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 20, 2007: 11:00PM (Est.)**

The two animals were curled together when a low grumble awakened her with a start. Kim rushed to her feet, stepping over the deer, and braced herself for impact with a wolf that's eyes were so blank with survival it would be easy to justify its slaughter.

Kim caught the wolf in the air and fell back to the ground, growling monster still in tow. She scampered back as its teeth gnashed at her, gobs of spit splattering in the air. The wolf darted in for another strike and Kim closed her eyes, willed her heartbeat to a steady pace, and held out her good arm.

The jagged teeth sunk into her arm and struck bone. It took everything she had not to scream or even so much as flinch.

The yellow eyes slowly turned up to her green ones and she smiled though the blood spilled fast. It was tense like this for a long time, and then the teeth drew out of her arm with no extra tearing and the wolf's maw closed. He stayed still and she reached out for him. He drew back so she waited.

It was minutes before he stepped forward and his head bumped up against her crimson soaked hand.

* * *

Getting the wolf to stay away from the doe while simultaneously getting the doe to not run away was hard.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 21, 2007: 1:00PM (Est.)**

But things started to click into place when the trio backtracked to Kim's last campsite from two days prior that already had a bonfire ready to go. While the snow behind her plumed into pink, the wolf wandered off and later returned with its kill: a bloodied rabbit.

Kim scratched the wolf behind the ears and cooked the rabbit over the fire. Too amazed by this bizarre kindness, Kim stayed put and for the first time in weeks, didn't move anywhere out of her immediate vicinity. Though her myriad of injuries were bound to eventually kill her, it felt important to stay put.

* * *

Kim had been thinking about scaling one of the many mountains with her only usable arm to see if there was anything worthwhile at the top, or at least within view. If there wasn't, the plan was to jump.

But now she had two creatures worth more than her own predicted lifetime tending to her.

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 22, 2007: 9:00PM (Est.)**

The only productive thing Kim did this day was add an extra mark to her to do list.

 _9\. I want to get a job working with abused animals.  
_

* * *

Snow melted into pools as two slender and able legs made their way through the snow, cleaving trenches into the tundra. It should have been a shock to see a human being in her presence after so long but no, Shego standing before her was something expected.

Kim straightened her posture against the back of the deer and dropped a hand to the wolf's neck, gently gripping his matted fur. "Easy boy."

 **Uncharted Forest: New Hampshire  
** **December 23, 2007: 6:00PM (Est.)**

"Aw, Kimmie made some new friends, huh?" Shego laughed.

The wolf growled and pulled hard against Kim's grip, nearly knocking her flat onto her face. The deer jumped to its full height and poised itself to run. If Kim's other hand were able she would have steadied the deer too but it wasn't possible in her state.

"Good on you for surviving, I heard of what went down in Jefferson, how did that feel?" There was a note of concern in Shego's voice that was very unlike her but Kim ignored it. It was easier to imagine the mercenary as totally stagnant.

"I can't believe you two actually killed someone," was all Kim could summon.

"Two?" Shego raised an eyebrow. "I can see how points connect here but trust me — big coincidence. I had nothing to do with the Eric sitch. I'm as surprised as you are, honestly."

"You expect me to believe that? You've been working me ever since Paris."

"True — but trust me, _I_ was the one trying to lead you somewhere else. It was your stinkin' ex-boyfriend that brought you to Jefferson — God, how'd you break your arm?"

"Long story," Kim muttered, patting the doe on the side. "Go," she whispered and the creature ran off. The wolf anxiously looked up to her with some sort of expectancy in his eyes. She nodded. "You too." But he stayed.

"And you're a Beast Master now or whatever, wow, cool, okay. So — up an' at 'im, Kimmie. Auntie Shego's bringing you to — "

"No, I'm done," Kim said with some finality, holding the wolf back with all that she had.

"You wish," Shego chuckled wryly. "But life's been going since I put you out here — "

" — which you did because?"

"To get you to grow a spine," she frowned back. "But I guess you used that time to become a cautionary tale to little girls who want to be Snow White — "

Kim couldn't hold the wolf back anymore and it tore from her grip and leaped through the air, and it was downed within seconds, Shego's hand smashing the poor creature's back to the ground, pink underbelly peeking through white fur. Her foot crashed onto the stomach and a crippling howl blasted through the creature's maw.

"Shego stop!"

Kim's limp arm swatted against Shego's enforced ones and the young girl threw a foot over the wolf, falling into a defensive stance, body sagging under the pains of old wounds. "It's not worth it."

An ugly crack in Shego's cheek smoothed out and the older woman gently nodded, throwing her gaze past Kim's shoulder and into the night. When she returned back to full alert, her voice was low. "Kim; I'm not playing you."

Kim really wanted that to be true.

Shego's arm lifted parallel to the ground and the black sleeve shook as a bolt of plasma blew out from under the cufflinks, rapidly expanding until it cleaved a full World War I style trench in the snow, the plasma burning away until all that was visible was a faint green light at the end of the tunnel.

Kim glanced down the passage and over to her mentor. "No more mind games, Shego. My capacity for them is shot."

Shego shrugged and considered it, offering an open palm to Kim before turning away and walking off. "You never get to stop fighting."

* * *

The sloped walls of snow froze to solid ice quickly, trench cut so deeply that no wolf nor bear dared plunge down.

 **The Emerald Trench: New Hampshire  
** **December 24, 2007: 5:00PM (Est.)**

Because of Shego's disturbance and the loss of her companions, Kim hadn't slept in over a day, nor had she had time to drink any water. So the walk down the winding trench was a wearying one. Too deep to mind her surroundings, she could only observe the underbrush of trees as she passed under, but she felt it in the wind that this was the direction the emerald phantasm had pointed towards many days prior.

She tried to quicken the pace and get through these stupid metaphorical quests but ultimately she slipped on ice. Considering all her open wounds and shattered self-esteem, it took far longer than she would have liked to pull herself back up.

Tens of miles down the line, the trench sloped upwards at a steady pace. Her boots caught against the carefully cut out ridges and she climbed up back to ground level to find herself standing in front of a cabin.

"Hello?" she called out. No answer.

She grabbed onto the door and creaked it open slowly, the bold smell of boiling stew tickling her nose. She slammed the door shut behind her and briefly stood in shock at the sheer comfort of this very lived-in cabin.

Newspaper clippings and yarn were strewn across the wooden kitchen table, and a live fire kept the stew simmering.

A squeaky bark swept her out of her trance and she glanced down to see a black Scottish terrier pawing at her pants leg. She smiled and stooped down, patting the dog on the head while quickly checking his name tag.

"Spooky," she read out loud. "Cute."

The dog yelped at her for food while she quickly spooned herself a bowl of soup, dropping the ladle back into the pot and quickly slurping down the stew that proved to be too hot for one gulp. She wiped some of the broth from her lips and checked the newspaper articles.

They all pertained to one person that she knew very well: herself. Some were recent, some were old. Op-eds, gossip columns, and old fashioned reporting, sliced and diced into bizarre shapes that remarkably fit together, key words lit up with highlighter. Lengths of yarn were tentatively strewn between seemingly unrelated articles and quickly a vivid picture came to mind of who this Kim Possible was.

She dropped into the kitchen chair and carefully sifted through information, paying careful attention to what had been highlighted and to what had been ignored. Even just the fact that some of the articles were dated from 2003 told her that whoever this was — there was some serious beef.

One particular stack that sent her hands cascading through material was in regards to the battle suit. One article from a villain's magazine gushed about the crazy capabilities the thing had shown off during the Li'l Diablo Invasion. It read like there was also a bit about how hot the suit made her look — but that had been thankfully trimmed out by impatient hands.

A follow-up piece from the New York Times detailed Professor Dementor's crazed search to acquire the battlesuit at the beginning of Kim and Ron's senior year, closely tailed by a puff piece from Buzzfeed interviewing Ron about how he fruitlessly stole the suit to try to become the all-star quarterback of Kim's dreams —

— " _i always looked up to kim like a hero so it was weird when we started dating — super easy thing to overthink, ya know?" —_

— clipped next to the feel-good Ron interview was an official Global Justice sealed report on the Algeria incident which included several quotes from Ron, as well as a sticky note that appeared to catalog how Ron liked his coffee:

— " _five sugars and a dash of cream" —_

This made sense. Kim always poured Ron a boat ton of cream and he never quite took to it — she thought it was because he was stubborn but in hindsight maybe she just wasn't listening.

She wanted to put the tinfoil hat connections down but the pieces started connecting for her without the yarn. A detailed report on Global Justice's acquisition of the battle-suit, paired with a briefing on Agent Will Du's expedition to Yamanouchi — one that apparently ended violently for the old man —

— " _you want power?" —_

— a phantom pain sparked in the shattered shoulder; Pseudo-Ron's teeth gnashing at her tongue, hands groping at her — this information checked out.

Taped to the back of that report was a black-and-white print out of a pixelated photo of a flat barrier — Kim didn't really get it, but the caption cast some light onto it —

— " _mystical barrier found under the Parisian Bermuda Triangle. made of magic?"_ —

— that barrier had spawned to rescue Bonnie — she at first assumed it was Ron's magic that did it in but by that logic it shouldn't have been around anymore. Did that mean she was the one who crafted that protection spell?

Every time her mind plowed down to the end of a tunnel, a light blared in her vision and she was suddenly careening down something new. The last two pieces that she couldn't just look away from were both reports.

One was a recorded interrogation Betty personally ran with Kim and Ron just after the Lowardian Invasion —

— " _oh yeah and then I like threw the two aliens into space it was pretty awesome I gotta say." —_

—and the second was Kim's "confessional" in Paris —

— " _i'm the mystical monkey master, although the monkey part's an embellishment. made it more believable because it's ron. but yes, i stopped the lowardian invasion. not ron. i did all these things but i was scared — my body was erupting with power and i couldn't handle it. i needed help. "_ —

— there was a creak at the door and Kim got to her feet, not needing to look to know it was Shego waiting in the door frame.

" _This_ is why I planted you out here," Shego slammed the door shut behind her, instinctively rummaging through the shelves for dog food.

"Have you been staying here the whole time?"

"Yeah. He thought he hired this friend Frieda as a dog sitter but here we are."

Kim's head bowed down under the immense pressure; Will Du had all his ducks in a row and was very hot on her tail.

"There's one more thing you should know," Shego kicked her feet onto the table as Spooky chowed down. "Nerdlinger told me this like a month ago but you've been MIA and everything," Shego sauntered over to the kitchen table and carefully rearranged the papers to how Du had left them. "See, your tech geek had been working on this for a while but by the time he was ready to share — you kinda torched a bridge with your Sidekick."

"Oh God," Kim tried not to scream as her face scrunched up.

"Mhm and it's a problem because you-know-who is still holding onto that dumb suit — see, the battlesuit was designed to actually pool power with the all powerful monkey mumbo jumbo, and yeah, that's why Global Justice confiscated it to begin with."

And of course there was a freakin' sheet of pure, unadulterated magic hanging around somewhere in Global Justice Headquarters.

It was Kimberly that looked back up to Shego. "So we're going to have to take it back then."


	18. Wide Eyes

"So — you guys wanted to talk?"

"Yes! Kimmie-cub, your mother and I are very proud of you — not a day has gone by that we haven't thanked the stars that you're our daughter."

"O—oh. Th—thanks Dad."

"No problem. It's the truth."

"So what's wrong then?"

 **Possible Residence: Middleton, Colorado  
** **August 25, 2003: 2:43PM**

James coughed into his hand and looked to his wife for guidance. Anne's bright blue eyes wavered as she looked to their daughter sitting across them in the living room.

Kim's eyes were wide and ideal, had been wide and ideal, ever since her first rescue mission. It wasn't something they ever expected from their daughter who had skipped several years of development within mere weeks.

A tension that was reserved for someone older held in her shoulders, the bones in her neck pressing taut to skin.

"Sweetie, we trust you and everything — but we have been concerned about your internet usage," Anne felt like an idiot saying this.

Something relaxed in Kim and she laughed. Her parents looked at each other nervously. "I thought you were going to tell me I can't go on missions anymore."

Anne offered a warm smile. "Your missions scare us sometimes, honey, but we know you care about them so — we're just concerned about this 'Wade' boy you have been talking to every night. It's dangerous to talk to strangers."

"Did you read my chat logs?" Kim frowned.

James blushed and thumbed his chin. "You've just been on the computer an awful lot lately."

A dim look passed through Kim's eyes before she chuckled it off. "Well, Wade's like seven years old guys."

"But don't you have to be at least thirteen years of age to use the forums on ?" James asked very quickly.

"I guess but — " Kim arched one of her eyebrows.

"I read the Terms and Conditions," James shrugged.

"What?!"

"Doesn't everyone?" James panicked. Even Anne seemed embarrassed for him.

"Anyways — " Kim giggled, shifting excitedly in the chair. "Wade just wants to help build our site. He thinks what I'm doing with Ron and Rufus is really cool and he already graduated from high school! He's trying to get an internship at Global Justice but they keep denying him because of age which I think is dumb and — " Her smile briefly faltered. "Global Justice is really cool though. It's like both of our dream jobs, so we're trying to make a case for each other."

"Oh, that is cute," Anne sighed wistfully. Off of Kim's furrowed brow, Anne cracked a smirk, "And pragmatic of course."

Despite the large braces, Kim's teeth were beaming.

"Is everything okay with Ronald though?" James asked. "We've noticed you haven't really been seeing him outside of missions and school lately."

Kim bit her lip. "Ron doesn't really talking about the mission stuff so much I guess. He gets really nervous, you know?"

Anne nodded and passed a knowing look to James before nestling under his warm hand.

"I wish Ron could just take this more seriously. I know he cares about it — and me — but he gets kinda weirded out when I talk about Global Justice stuff."

"Everyone grows at their own pace, Kimmie," James nodded. "And unfortunately, not everyone is as passionate as you are."

A brief exchange of sparkles in their eyes. Kim's shoulders sloped down, tiny hands encased in each other. "Mm, I guess so. Ron'll come around," she muttered. "It's just been kind of lonely lately without him. But I'm sorry I hid Wade from you — I just didn't want anyone to know I had an internet friend."

"Apology accepted, don't feel bad, honey. You know you can always talk to us." Anne wanted to reach out and hug her daughter but the wall between them was thickening fast — and not in a bad way, mind you.

"Would it be okay then — " Kim blushed. " — if I did a video chat with Wade tonight? I think it would speed up our dialog on building the site. We're trying to finish it real soon so we can focus more on outreach and getting people to know our names."

"Of course, Kimmie." "Always."

* * *

Kimberly looked into the face of the same girl that ventured into that billionaire's mansion long ago...or rather, Veronica Bortel, the fourteen year old protege to Doctor Cyrus Bortel who had already taken on an esteemed internship under his tutelage.

She snickered at the thought, fingers popping under the pasted on braces, popping them off bracket for bracket.

 **Global Justice Women's Restroom: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 9:53AM**

It was the perfect plan. Ambitious yet practical. A quick breach-and-bleach of Doctor Elizabeth Director. Bortel was scheduled to come in on Christmas to sell Global Justice the Moodulators. What Global Justice didn't know was that Veronica Bortel was there to observe the transaction.

Things almost came to a screeching halt when the Global Justice security guard posted up front tried to cut Kimberly off from coming in; she didn't have a Visitor's pass unlike her 'uncle' after all. But after Doctor Bortel pulled a whoopsie doodle and spilled Moodulators all over the place, Kimberly did something she really didn't like and planted one of the unethical things on the guard and within seconds the duo were allowed in.

Already, Kimberly felt dirty; Bortel and Co. didn't really care about the ethics of this kind of manipulation but that was not why Kimberly signed onto the work. So after a passive aggressive argument passed over between her and the bad doctor, Kimberly twisted on her heel and decided to make an unscheduled trip to the bathroom.

She had two minutes to pull this off or else Shego and Perkins would realize she was trailing off map very early into the hit.

The kiddie work that Shego had adorned Kimberly in truly made her look like any other acne smeared tween; it was the only thing that had made her laugh since — well — not to be dramatic, but it was Ron. She used to laugh every day with him.

Kimberly splashed waves of tap water to her face and rubbed off the makeup, simultaneously tugging off the compressing binder that kept her chest flat. She moved fast, swapping the scientist junior outfit out for a Global Justice uniform Ron had bought for her a year ago; she had never worn it but it had been tailored to her exact form.

Navy blue with white stripes running along her body with the curves of her hips, chest, and forearms. A metallic utility belt at the waist, much unlike the loose World War II era pocket-pouch belt she had prior. Hair tied back, gray trench-coat tossed over her shoulders for warmth, and a noticeable sling around her still broken left arm.

The backpack with the President of the Science Club getup crashed into the trash and just as Kimberly walked out of the bathroom she stole a glance of herself in the mirror and nearly cried at the sight of this adult career woman she aspired to be only four years ago.

But this was also a woman that was wanted on sight now so she had no choice but to cover up her auburn locks with a black wig, cut neatly into a bob, with wild eye makeup that she never would have felt confident enough to express.

* * *

"Wait — what happened to our cover story? I already introduced you as my niece — "

"Emergency change of plans."

"B—but — whoa! What is that?!"

 **Global Justice Hallway 1-C: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 9:54AM**

A 3D map lit up from Kimberly's wrist-watch, her right hand poking and prodding at it. "Leftover tech from Wade — figured it'd be useful — "

"But — " Doctor Bortel stuttered and froze, staring hard at Kimberly. " — this was not in the briefing. What are you doing?"

"Improvising, just be chill, listen — "

They dove into a vacant corner. Kim's index and middle fingers spread apart, zooming in on the map. Yellow dots slowly moved through corridors, some of which were around the corner from them. Flashing orange panels revealed entrances and exits and passageways — one of them being directly below the duo.

" — we're doing this my way, got it?" Kimberly snipped, stamping the floor beneath them. The floor panel below loosened, arching up like a see-saw from the force of the kick. She scooched the panel a few inches away and exposed a dark tunnel below them. "Not even the Agents know about these getaways; that's our advantage."

Bortel scratched his chin. "Okay. I just don't get why you didn't mention this earlier."

"Well I had to pretend to do the lisp thing with the braces so it was kinda hard to communicate," Kimberly dropped a knee and scanned the tunnel.

Bortel peeked around the corner to see if anyone was coming —

"I got eyes there already, stop," Kimberly spat. "You go first."

Bortel crept back and scratched his scalp. "If you say so." He looked down the passage and swung his arms back and forth like pendulums, raring to jump on down when —

Clink clink. Click.

Ice cold metal to his wrists, chain dragging against struggling flesh. Bortel looked over to Kimberly and saw a dark look in her eyes before her foot nailed him in the jaw, sending his body lumbering backwards, tripping over the tile and falling the yards down to the wet floor.

Ploomp.

Kimberly peeked down the hole to make sure Bortel was actually going to be okay and when she had taken up the satisfactory amount of time for empathy, she dragged the tile back over the hole and straightened her posture, quickly merging into the hallway among the other Global Justice units.

This was an important job and it had to be done right. Anyone not capable or ethically up to par with her was not to be allowed beyond this point.

Because no one needed to die today.

* * *

"You know Betty...it's not the turkey and the stuffing or the gifts around the tree."

"Are you trying to convince me that it's a warm and fuzzy feeling that begins with you — "

" — and me, yes. So put away those petty problems."

"You don't understand, Du, I can't just embrace my fellow man — "

"You have to. And join the celebration all across this wonderful land."

"..."

"..."

"...No."

 **Global Justice Main Office: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 9:55AM**

The door slammed before him and Will Du was left alone in Doctor Elizabeth Director's office, pathetically slumped in his silly outfit. He was en route to visit his family this magical Christmas morning and embrace his family in the guise of Snowman Hank, but then —

" _Agent Du, I need you to run Homebase today."_

" _But Betty — I can't — I'm committed to — "_

" _Get a grip, Du. This is more important: I need to have a word with Sheldon. He just sent me a lump of coal for the holidays and I just won't stand for that insolence!"_

" _Um — "_

" _I need to go to the Director Family party and make a scene now. Take care."_

Betty didn't even comment on how rock solid Will's costume was as she stormed out the door.

A green sweater-vest with a candy cane pattern, Stovetop hat, bushy snow white beard and droopy 'stache, Will was the spittin' image of the holiday icon. He pulled the pipe from his mouth and took a seat at Betty's desk, mindlessly reshuffling some pages while he looked over the agenda for that day.

Apparently Doctor Bortel was to pay a visit in exactly five minutes to sell Global Justice some Moodulators.

Moodulators?

First off: gross, unethical, sick and wrong, what have you.

Second off: What was Betty thinking buying from Bortel? Didn't she recall that his Moodulators had been stolen from him by none other than Shego and Doctor Drakken this very summer during his ongoing tenure at MIT? Not so coincidentally, Shego was still at large — and Kimberly Possible was under her reigns. The young girl had already targeted three members of Global Justice and issued a threat on Betty's life.

This was all so obvious but sure Betty — go yell at your stupid, petty brother.

If he were to divulge this to the childish yet all-powerful Director, he'd be once again dismissed as hairbrained. Another demerit. But no, Will had to be right. Why would Bortel all of a sudden be interested in selling to Global Justice unless — someone had made it easy for him? Perhaps a backroom dealing, more coin to the pocket, and —

His thumb absently pushed down on the intercom button and his lips pursed at the delightful thought of issuing a command for all units to be on guard. He could trap Kimberly Possible like a rat in a moving maze, and he could drop down to wherever he pleased and take her out.

But no; he released the button. Why even issue a warning? He was more than capable and besides — Kimberly and Bortel had no way of knowing what he knew — or that he was even present.

Was this his shot? His moment to re-obtain the glory he once held so unquestionably?

Ohoho, this was truly delicious, because third off: Agent Will Du, oh so ironically forced to serve a graveyard shift, was now perfectly seated from the ideal vantage point to snipe Kimberly Possible.

Ah. What a ringlin', tinglin', Chris Kringlin' Christmas. .

* * *

Kimberly was marching through the past least followed in Global Justice when a horrible, searing pain ripped into her mind and sent her tumbling across the floor.

 **Global Justice Hallway: 1-M: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 9:59AM**

Visions of hallways she had never ventured through nor knew of passed through her mind, like memories of another life surging at her, twisting and turning and careening at such a speed it was impossible to decipher if she was making hairpin turns or if she was physically phasing through solid walls.

But it was all real, and the darkly lit corridors opened up to a gargantuan room with vats of chemicals and other whirring gizmos and machines. A blue light trickled into view and she began to understand how a kitten felt with their big heart beating rapidly into their tiny little chest like a mallet.

She blinked and for a moment she was back in her corridor, arms and legs arched like a spider's, neck twisted ninety degrees against the dusty, metal plated floor. She grit her teeth and pulled up the 3D map of Global Justice, quickly tracing the route her mind had just plunged down by memory, a red line as jagged as her nibbled upon fingernails cleaving through the map —

Her throat tightened and she could see the eyes of Bonnie Rockwaller staring up at her, the notion that she was about to die at the hands of her rival firmly planted in them. Kimberly felt what it was to deliver mercy and the blue light got stronger.

She saw the blue plane of light suspended above this factory like room, saw the shimmering crystals so tightly bonded together — felt this bizarre sense of ownership, felt how tightly the four metallic claws held the plane so that it may be kept under control. A simmering in her chest as if something were cooking there — a coup to the brain and — and —

Spit slobbered from her mouth as she snapped back to reality and propped herself up against the corridor walls for support, gnarled fingers pointlessly leaving uneven and unconnected streaks all over the map. But still, she had painted for herself the beginning inkling of a path.

"Princess," Shego's voice crackled through the radio in her ear. "Why is Doctor B unconscious?"

"Uh — " Kimberly drawled, pulling out her Kimmunicator and issuing a distress beacon to an old friend. "Stress?"

"Don't give us that," Perkins snipped into her other ear. "Do you understand how much we are paying that lout to even be here? Wake him up, now!"

"Can't do it, sorry," Kimberly murmured quietly, stiffening her spine as several buddy-buddy Global Justice agents came from behind her. "I need to do this alone."

As Shego and Hank continued to chatter, Kimberly tweaked the positions of her earpieces and fiddled with her wrist-watch.

"Kimmie, I'm going to be real with you, you didn't _choose_ to be here, do you understand that?" Shego growled.

"We allowed you to be here because you _agreed_ to our terms and conditions," Hank continued with the clean diction of a well-rehearsed thespian. "But if you are not going to follow through, we will need to terminate our arrangement — which includes your life."

Kimberly rolled her eyes and though her handlers couldn't see it, she smiled darkly as a familiar voice chirped from both earpieces.

"Hey Ron, Merry Christmas, what's going — " Wade drawled.

"Whoa! What's Nerdlinger doing on our radio?!" Shego practically shrieked.

"Easy, I just woke up — " Wade seemed disheartened. "Is that Shego? What the heck, Ron? Oh! Oh! Oh! You're not Ron. Got it. Up to speed."

"Kimmie, what planet are you from that you think this is okay?" Shego blurted.

"Listen — you guys want to kill Betty. I don't want to. We don't have to. So I'm not going to, and you're probably not going to help me how I need you to," Kimberly tried not to be frantic.

"You're insane," Hank growled. "There are too many gears in motion right now — and trust me when I say I appreciate your moral caliber, but you don't have enough work laid out to do anything else."

"Yeah," Shego clipped.

"Kill Betty, what — sorry, you're going to need to catch me up," Wade was still groggy.

"Wade, go get a coffee or something — " Kimberly snapped, caving a hand over her mouth. "Some agents passed by, I'm in Global Justice. Hey, can you cut Shego and Hank's signals?"

"Princess, if you even so much as think of — "

"Kimberly Ann Possible, if you even so much as think — "

"Users offline," Wade chuckled. "Seriously though, what's up?"

"Thanks," Kimberly sighed. "They stress me out. Okay. So. I'm using the Global Justice map you built during the whole Ron Factor fiasco — I need to find the Mystical Monkey Power thing that — "

" — so work stuff? That's it?"

"Wh—what — yeah." Kimberly bowed her head, a deep red flush coming to her cheeks. "I'm sorry I haven't been a good friend to you and Ron but this is seriously urgent. I know you hate me but — this is the world we're talking about."

"Kim," Wade hesitated. "I know why you're in Global Justice — I'm not telling you how to get Ron's magic into the suit — no one needs to know that."

"No yeah, I agree with you!" Kimberly gasped, sensing the ticking clock of the conversation. "I don't want to know — I really don't care about that — I'm serious. But I — we — need to get the suit out of here. If you knew what I knew about Betty and Will then — "

"Kim, you know who you're talking to right?"

Kimberly froze; right, Wade was a super-genius or whatever. "Sorry, it's been a hot second but I need you to trust me. _I'm_ not the bad guy here, I know it's a bad look but — "

"It is."

Kimberly's shoulders fell limply. "Wade, please help me. Forget about me, forget about you, this is about the world. I'm defending the planet and step one is to get that suit out of here — "

The holographic map shot from Kimberly's wrist without warning. She flashed worried glances all around her, clasping a hand over the light to blot out the map, but it merely phased through her hand.

The red line that she scrawled as a path was erased with the quick swipes of an invisible finger, the halls of the map discombobulating from each other and rearranging into a completely new arrangement — one that was entirely different from the base she was standing in.

"W-Wade. Please. Don't — don't do that."

The ray of light flickered rapidly and then gave out into nothingness. Her wrist stayed bent as if it were still angling the map to her eyes, and it took several long seconds for her to realize it didn't matter anymore.

"I'm really sorry Kim," Wade said the second before his radio signal gave out.

Kimberly's heartbeat that minutes prior was steady and calm, brain with the occupancy to joke and quip, and had accelerated into something threatening. She was so close to what she needed to accomplish but Wade thought — knew? — she was no longer the hero of this story.

Wade fried the tools she needed to fly solo, including Shego and Perkins. That radio connection was dead. There was only one person left she could talk to and he very well might have been the perfect candidate to guide her through this mess and to the goal but —

— Ron had been burned enough. He was so far away now but that didn't matter; every ripple of hers always made it to him before popping into a tidal wave. She couldn't do that ever again, not if she wanted Wade to be wrong about her.

This was her war and her war alone now. Not that it made sense for a war to be a single party.

"I'm losing it," she muttered to herself, ducking past agents. She marched through the corridors aimlessly, densely packed time suddenly slipping from her with empty thoughts that corroded what felt like seconds into minutes. This job was something set for so long now and with two poorly directed decisions, she had ruined it.

What was she thinking?

This labyrinthine army base was too twisted and convoluted for her to feasibly find a way to her destination. Even if she did make it to the Hangar with the Mystical Monkey Barrier, would she be able to get in? Were normal Agents allowed in? Or did you need to be high up the food chain for that?

And if she did make it to the Barrier — what was going to allow her to make that experience more than a museum visit? She remembered the immense effort Shego had to mount to even lift the thing to rescue the villains — and Kimberly had a broken arm now. Any hopes of moving the thing out of the base were out of question.

The only way around moving the panel was to crack the secret of how to absorb magic into the battlesuit — a mystery that required tearing the uniform off the body of Agent Will Du — she had nothing.

Stealing the power was also something she very specifically _didn't_ want — she had enough on her plate and to gain access to a breathtaking super weapon was not something on her agenda. How would she be able to look herself in the mirror and keep lying that she was doing the right thing if she was engaging in the arms' race?

So much time and effort literally gone to waste. Her father told her not to shy away from the impossible — that she would always triumph. But this was maybe the first time that her vision had surpassed nothing more than exercise. There was only one concrete thing that could be done by this point — and that was the thing that Big Daddy Brotherson had recruited her for.

That was the death of Doctor Elizabeth Director.

That was all she had left if she wanted to make a difference.

* * *

"What are you doing gawking at the wall rookie?!"

 **Global Justice Hallway 1-K: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 11:06AM**

Kimberly flinched and turned to see the waiting eye of that very woman she was instructed to murder.

Betty's shoulders were tense, as if ready to be slammed by the heaviest of weights. High cheekbones flaring out a flush pink, nose high in the air, the woman's gray eye didn't leave Kimberly.

Dressed in a cushy travel coat, decidedly not in uniform, Kimberly remembered that Big Daddy had paid Gemini to send Betty a lump of coal for Christmas, knowing full well what temperament it would agitate. But why had Betty not left yet? It looked like she had just been standing around like a scarecrow.

"You look familiar," Betty's eye narrowed. "What's your name, recruit?"

Kimberly thought it over for a second. "Miriam."

Some horrible gob of spit splattered against Betty's teeth and plummeted back down her throat. "Agent — ?"

"Romano. Agent Romano. Ma'am," Kimberly bowed politely, eyes glued to the steel floor. How did Betty not recognize her? Head pounding, she sorted through all the jumbled information that she could weaponize here but instead the little tattle tale within her spoke up. "There's a situation."

"Mm?"

"Doctor Bortel is missing." Kimberly fought off the surge of sweat well.

"Ah, well Bortel is an idiot, he's probably just — "

"He snuck in a teenage girl who's also vanished. We found Moodulators on the guards posted up front."

Betty remained oddly calm as she continued to nod along, eventually slumping her back and checking her peripherals. Yet her voice was cold like the winter chill. "Okay."

* * *

"You armed?"

"No."

 **Global Justice Hallway 1-C: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 11:12AM**

Betty gave Kimberly a penetrating look that was almost motherly. "And why is that?"

Maybe in a different timeline this woman eventually would have become Kimberly's boss.

Kimberly tried shrugging her right shoulder. "Monitor duty. Don't need it." It didn't move, so she brushed her chin against the sling.

Betty stepped very close to Kimberly with one long stride and snapped her hand out like a snake, clenching hard on the broken shoulder. The flesh and bone twisted and squeezed with the indelicate touch and Kimberly yelped, instinctively wriggling to break free, which Betty allowed easily.

"I have to check that you're not lying to me. You're very shady Agent Romano," Betty smirked. "Not that I mind."

By the time the red flushed from Kimberly's eyes, a gun was waiting for her, Betty's gloved hand enclosed around the barrel. The older woman's thin eyebrows pushed up in surprise from Kimberly's hesitance. "You have a lot to learn."

Kimberly nodded, purposeless thoughts rushing to her mind that she was thankful the horrible pain sapped her from saying.

At some point, Kimberly realized that Betty's purposefully long and slow strides actually had little to do with any weird social dynamics passing between them; it was only because Kimberly had lagged behind in her distress.

"Sorry Doctor Director," Kimberly bowed her head as she briskly passed by Betty. Minutes later, they reached the spot where Kimberly had kicked down Bortel. "Bortel was last seen somewhere around — "

Betty dropped down, rear haunches almost touching the floor, stooped over the floor panel as if she already knew. Her finger traced along the tile, running against the faintest imprint of a boot. "Sloppy," she said, gently pressing a heel to the panel, leveling it off the floor and kicking it back.

Their voices echoed down the deep tunnel.

"Well there's Bortel," Betty's head hadn't moved since she stooped over. "Just him though. What do you think happened? Kid pulled a Benedict Arnold on him?"

A spark up Kimberly's limp fingers that threatened to amputate them; they curled in response to the open target before her.

"I don't know," Kimberly's voice was too soft for her consonants to stick out among vowels. "That'd be weird — why would she do that?"

Kimberly closed her eyes and imagined Shego's cold grip on her shoulders. Clammy breath shuttering past her neck, the woman's taut arm gently lifting Kimberly's spare hand from the sling, gun in hand.

It would be so easy. One shot, one she didn't even need to worry about aiming. It would go clean through her skull and her body would slack under the weight and fall into the tunnel. She wouldn't even need to check the bloody corpse's pulse; it was a guaranteed hit. All she needed to do was suck it up and accept that this was what was left.

But then Betty spoke with an unearthly calm.

"I'm surprised you haven't killed me yet," it was a chuckle, not a cackle like she expected. "I thought you were serious about this new path but I guess I was wrong."

Kimberly still didn't move — though there was an instinct to raise the gun and fire — an instinct that was quickly deconstructing from panic.

Betty's back straightened, though her sloped shoulders and bowed head remained in the same place. "Not that I would have allowed my murder of course, but I was curious as to what you were planning. You understand this is the moment to do it, right?"

The heel of Betty's boot dragged the panel back into place, hands lodged in her pockets. After some painful seconds passed, she raised her head high and turned to face Kimberly. "God, you didn't even pull the gun out. Coward."

"Wh—what?"

"If you gave a damn about _the work_ — you would kill me, and that's something I respect by the way. I tamper with some pretty scary things. You're too young to understand why that is — but it's what I do and it's why you want me dead, right?"

Betty briskly walked towards Kimberly as if she were a phantom. Kimberly backed away before there was a collision, and squeezed against the wall so that the older woman could pass through.

"But no we're just talking about it," Betty's voice was crackling with pleasure. "Why is that?"

Betty vanished around the corner, the pattering of her footsteps fading off into the normal ambience. Kimberly's knees gave out and she tumbled to the floor in a sniveling heap. She tried to hold down the lump in her throat but when Betty's voice called out into the walkie that echoed through every intercom in the military base —

— "Area 1-C is to remain undisturbed while we do some clean-up work. Stay alert and have a Merry Christmas." —

— it was just one step over the line and all those wretched feelings came gushing out.

* * *

"Um — hello? Anyone there?"

"What? Oh — oh! Bortel! Hey, hey, what's going on down there, Doc?"

"It's dark I guess, your friend knocked me out and — "

"We know."

 **Bermuda Triangle Backroom: Washington DC  
** **December 25, 2007: 11:18AM**

Shego's fingers snapped together, gesturing to the seat besides her. Hank Perkins dropped the papers he had been sifting through and threw himself into the chair, leaning in towards the microphone.

"Listen, Doc, Kimmie's above you," Shego instructed, eying the digital map displayed before them. "I don't know why she came back; it's been an hour since she nailed you, but she's there. I need you to pull out all the stops, got it?"

Hank raised an eyebrow but Shego waved it off.

"There should be a ladder back up; feel around for it and get her back in line ASAP."

"I don't know if I feel comfortable with this, Sheilah," Bortel responded.

"We don't have much of a choice so — "

"Alright. Fine."

Hank reached forward and silenced their end on the microphone. "Why didn't you tell me about Plan B?"

Shego slid the headphones down her neck. "Honestly I forgot. Kimmie was all moody last night so I just figured — " she checked Hank's expression. " — don't worry about it. You are going to like Plan B more than I do."

* * *

"Kimberly? Are you there?"

 **Global Justice Hallway 1-C: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 11:21AM**

Kimberly didn't respond verbally, though her sniffling could be heard even through the sealed off tunnel. Bortel threw his weight into it and slid the tile back, fluorescent rays shining down onto his bald face. He blinked back the white light and clambered onto the floor to find Kimberly a sobbing mess, eyes locked on a revolver he didn't know she brought, barrel aimed at her cranium.

"Hi," he said softly, edging towards her and taking a seat against the wall, knees aligned next to hers. "I forgive you if that helps."

"This is not about you," she wanted to growl but the snot kind of got in the way of that. "Get out."

Bortel wouldn't look away from the gun in trembling hands. She tried to make eye contact but he stayed strong. "Kimberly, you're too young to — "

"No, I'm not," she said with some finality. "I'm tired."

"We know."

She flinched at the use of the word _we_. "I'm not some hired gun here to do your bidding — I'm here to do the right thing."

"So why didn't you do it Princess?" Shego's voice spoke lowly for Bortel's ears.

"So why didn't you do it?" Bortel asked, trying to emulate concern.

Kimberly didn't quite catch the facade, staring down the black corridor within the barrel, pupils dilated. She wanted to say something dramatic. Catch Bortel's attention with something like, _Because there's one bullet in this cartridge and it's only in here for the bad guy._ But then she would splurt more tears and echo the sentiment as her cowardly arm would slump besides her, _I'm the bad guy._

Instead, she stayed silent, mind shrinking into her ego. Did she have any last words for instance? What would be powerful?

"Mm, well," Bortel frowned. "You aren't going to like this — and you can say no — but I have an offer." He shoved a hand into his lab coat and pulled out a Moodulator, holding it carefully between two fingers in an A-OK gesture. "Have you ever been on antidepressants?"

"No," she said carefully, "But I don't think those count as one."

"Hey, I'm working on short notice," he shrugged. "This is our only shot at this."

She eyed the Moodulator for a long time; the manipulation here was not very tactful. At this point, it was the normal but when these things were to her benefit, they didn't quite matter anymore. She sucked in a deep breath and then finally dropped the gun. "If you give me the controller."

Bortel nodded.

* * *

The sobbing had been going on for some time now. Obnoxious, yet deliciously rich after waiting so long for this encounter.

A piercing bang that lingered, the tinkling of clattering ammo, and the heavy drop of the body. No more crying.

A quick moment of respect for the fallen hero and then back to business.

Betty had been here before after all.

 **Global Justice Hallway 1-D: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 11:24AM**

A shifting of cloth from far off. A crackle up each segment of Betty's neck. Pricked ears.

Betty turned on her heel and made for her gun, freezing at the sight of Kimberly's grey trench-coat spreading wide in the air as she leaped from wall to wall like some ghoulish creation. Mesmerizing in its ruthless hops yards across the hall, she zig-zagged her way towards Betty.

By the time Betty's hand got a tight grip on the holster, it was apparent that her sympathy, regardless of its brevity, had cost her.

Kimberly's boot hooked her right in the jaw, legs moving with the force of helicopter blades, crushing Betty's windpipe. The older woman fell backwards, clutching her throat as Kimberly slipped onto her two feet, broken arm held tightly to her chest.

There was an electricity to those green eyes she had never seen lit up in this way. Before, the lines separating the pupil from the iris from the sclera were blurred into a mass of ugly forest green, but in the matter of seconds they had transformed back to hard lines firmly defining her beaming emotions. Then, blue light crackled from her pupils like the bursting web of heat spreading from a volcano. Her emerald eyes became consumed in sapphire.

"Where's the Hangar?" Kimberly's voice became so dark so fast.

"I'm not — " Betty stuttered.

"You will," Kimberly pivoted forwards and shoved her fist into the whole of Betty's head, her own knuckle roaring from such blunt impact. The woman fell to the floor and before she could even mount a recovery, Kimberly was back on top of her, manic eyes almost blinding to gaze into. "Now. Where is it."

Betty almost ground her own teeth into dust. "Sector 4-J." She released the tension in her mouth. "But you-know-who will be waiting."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Kimberly smiled before striking Betty hard in the neck, the consciousness splattering out of her, head lolling uncomfortably off to the side.

Something throttled in Kimberly's body, begging her to snatch the gun from Betty's side and use it for what it was intended but — that still wasn't her. Couldn't be her, though Shego and Big Daddy were counting on it. The kick from the Moodulator was short lived enough for her to fight back and though she had possession of the controller, she needed to nip things in the bud.

Her hand grabbed for the gun and dragged it up her neck, the barrel stabbing into the Moodulator latched onto her skin. The machine crumbled away into bits and pieces, cascading down where her back peeked out from under the uniform.

Immediately, the dark glimmer in her eyes was overcome by the glaze of the dread. She panted from the rush leaving her so fast, slamming her hand to the wall for support. The sound traversed up her curled back and rasped out the throat. "Okay — okay. So..."

Rapidly things were turning to their original state; she knew where the barrier was now. Will Du was apparently waiting there and unless he had a Death Wish, he was wearing the battlesuit. Thee were still plenty of questions but the point was her game plan was back on.

Bortel spun his index fingers around an invisible spool as he stepped out from around the corner. "So — um — aren't you going to um — _bang bang_?"

"No, can I like trust you to — not?" Kimberly blinked. "Change of plans. Bring Betty to the tunnel, drop her off, and get out."

Bortel furrowed his brow and leaned into his earpiece. "That's not — huh? Ah, Shego says — aw geez — " his face scrunched up at the sound of something apparently grotesque. " — hey, hey, Shego, be cool, don't take it out on — okay, okay, I'll — she wants to speak to you." Bortel plucked out the earpiece and held it up to Kimberly as an offering.

She remembered the back of green woman's hand smashing her across the face at Bueno Nacho and the shadows of many sleepless nights came back to her face. She smiled, dry skin pulling the wrinkles wide.

She chuckled. "I'm all set on that front, thanks though."


	19. Power Mongers

"H—hey, Kim? Can I come in?"

"Ron? What are you doing here? I thought we were hanging later — oh, oops."

 **Possible Residence: Middleton, Colorado  
** **August 2, 2003: 2:54PM**

The door flung open with the same ferocity that pre-teen Kim charged at her best friend, tiny arms wrapping around his sloping shoulders. Ron couldn't help but smile before writhing out of Kim's grip. "It's cool, KP, don't sweat it. So um — what's up?"

Kim hung there in the doorway before snapping out of the confusion. "Right! Yeah, yeah, come in, I want to show you!"

"Show me — huh?"

Kim's warm hand grabbed onto Ron's and dragged him into the bedroom, dropping him off at her bedside while she hopped back into the computer chair, spine arching uncomfortably while she tapped away at the keyboard.

"So I was thinking about last night — "

Last night was Team Possible's first ever mission.

" — and how fun it was!"

What had previously been a much fluffier web-design had changed overnight into something much more professional and streamlined with neon green and black as opposed to the previous red and yellow.

Ron smiled at the sight of it; he didn't even recognize the site at first even though he had just been looking at it the past afternoon. Though he failed to notice Kim's parents' plastic debit card was next to the keyboard. "Wow, the site looks really cool Kim! Did you do all this?"

She blushed. "Yeah, I want to do more hero stuff now — I mean baby sitting's good and I could keep doing it to bring in some kind of income but seriously last night was so cool a—and — "

Ron leaned in and pointed at the curved screen, nail tapping against the desktop. "Hey KP, why am I on the site?"

There were three profiles on the website. Kim's was of course the leading one and featured a great picture of her that Ron took at the grand finale of her practice cheer routine. Arms wide in the air, smile even wider, who wouldn't want to hire this cute kid?

Ron was the next profile; it was a picture his parents must have taken of him after he walked out of his first and final karate class.

It felt kind of disingenuous to use that photo, though maybe Ron was overthinking it. He scratched the back of his neck, tongue caught between his teeth, though he relaxed at the site of the third profile.

Kim had only just met Rufus the night before but already the little guy was planted alongside the two of them. Though for the time being, Kim appeared to have snatched up a photo of a generic naked mole rat off the net.

Kim's smile fell and she looked over her shoulder. "Because you're my best friend silly."

"Oh," Ron nodded and mulled it over. Something didn't sit right with him. "But you're the star attraction right? I mean — I didn't do anything to help out, ya know?"

"What? Ron — I couldn't have done that without you. You're like the person who pushed me to even start this." Kim's hands fell to her lap, scrunching up her baggy skirt.

"Yeah but — you should so obviously be doing great things, anyone can see that."

"I know that — but you should be too and like — I want people to know that about you." Tentatively, Kim's hand snapped out and grabbed onto Ron's, pulling him closer to the edge of the bed. "Please?"

It was a hard face to say no to.

"O—okay, but — I dunno, I feel weird about my face being on the site, we'll probably get better traction if you take me off."

It was strange. Something twisted at his chest, perhaps it was the quickening pace of his heart. Whatever it was it burned and intensified as he looked at this image of himself in supposed glory, apparently as great as the girl he was a mere shadow to.

"I'm sorry, Ron — I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?" Kim's knees clicked together. "I was just trying to — "

Ron's mouth opened before he knew what to say. Some empty syllables that not even he understood strung from his mouth before a loud _Beep-beep-de-beep!_ interrupted them.

"Ohmigosh!" Kim turned back to the computer. "That's the alert I set up! It means we just got a hit!"

We?

A hit?

"Aw, Ms. Freudelstein's son ran away from home," Kim read the message fast, fingers tapping away at an apparently invisible keyboard.

"Oh no — Basketball Jimmy?" Ron frowned from a hundred miles away.

"Yeah," Kim clipped, "Um — can you go downstairs and ask Mom if she can make us lunch real quick? Ooh, we might need a ride too — um — not from Mom though. It'd be more legit if someone else — remember Mr. Gudenheimer?"

"Oh yeah, that's the guy with the cat we looked for all day — "

" — that ended up just being in the closet, yeah! Can you contact him? I need to respond to this message — "

Kim's voice trailed off as if she were still speaking. There was an odd silence that implied she was in fact still talking but it was okay. Ron got up very slowly and lingered at the spot.

" — sorry, Ron, I know you really wanted to go to Bueno Nacho today."

"Huh? Oh — KP, no, it's cool. Rufus really wants to go — but we can pencil it in after we find Jimmy. We could even take Jimmy along if he's feeling better."

It took Kim a second to realize Ron was finished talking, and she twisted back in the chair to say something when she noticed that — well — Ron was gone, the loud thumping of his iconically heavy steps down the stairs impossible to ignore, and she smiled because the things they needed to talk about were living on unsaid —

— because —

— she felt oddly emotional acknowledging it —

— but while living on at the cusp of womanhood and quivering at the sight of beautiful girls —

— girls she liked more than she let on —

— she felt safe because she had Ron and though she was too embarrassed to admit it —

— she was in love with him.

* * *

It was blinding for most to stare at the Mystical Monkey Power Barrier left behind after the Parisian Bermuda Triangle Incident, but for Will Du, he was used to it.

Standing in the Global Justice Hangar, neck craned at such a sharp angle that it was painful just to see, agents buzzed past him and Will didn't even so much as flinch at the brushes of movement. While he didn't know the answer to cracking the code and prying that magic free and using it to amp up his suit, today was the day.

It was going to be either Kimberly or him; one of them would walk away with all the power in the world, knowing that they vanquished the horrible evil that threatened to ensnare everything in hate.

 **Global Justice Hangar: Undisclosed Location  
** **December 25, 2007: 11:35AM**

Something also told him that it was just a matter of minutes before Kimberly Possible came into the Hangar. Having tossed aside the Snowman Hank costume (regrettably), now adorned in the wash up's battlesuit, he was ready for her whenever she inevitably arrived.

"Hey."

His neck whiplashed to his left shoulder and though it hurt, he didn't let it show. His stiff shoulders rolled back and he stepped forward quickly, eyes homing in on his target among the throng of agents.

"Hello," he drawled, feet picking up speed.

Kimberly didn't say anything; there were two ugly creases under her eyes that the girl he had tried to arrest in Paris was truly gone.

The arm in the sling was a surprise and maybe even a disappointment; already the precise stratagem of movement it would take to down Kimberly Possible had arrived to his mind, and it was painfully brief. The fight was already too easy and failed to justify the lengths he had strewn himself for this investigation.

Her own speed was picking up. Good.

"Nice outfit," her head cocked to the side. "Where'd you get it?"

His muscles tensed behind the skintight white, the blue stripes across his joints glowed with power. "Some old power monger; she didn't have a good hold on her stuff though. Your outfit's familiar too. Where from?"

"Left behind by someone who saw that this symbol didn't really mean anything."

Long strides fell shorter but moved fast; they were both running. Mere yards apart now. There were almost too many people in the room; there could be no interruptions.

Kimberly pirouetted, leg flying over her head, sheer force dragging her the rest of the way to Will.

A sapphire shield whipped around him and held strong as Kimberly's boot struck it like a gong. Waves of white cascaded around the sphere all over. Another swing and more waves exploded from the touch. She kept going, switching her balance from one foot to the other with each onslaught.

After one particularly strong kick, the shield gave out and Will swooped forward with a flurry of punches. Kimberly's body bent like a contortionist, each strike transformed to strong gusts of wind.

There was some exchange of eye contact and Kimberly fell back in, tossing and turning almost erratically. But there were no surprises; years of archive footage told Will exactly what she was planning on.

The shield flew back up, materializing directly underneath her legs and expanding at a speed that was nigh impossible to overrun — the shield should have snapped her like a twig but instead she managed to slip past its reach, the curve of her back sloping precisely with the curve of the sphere — which in hindsight made sense, it was her technique he stole after all.

The shield kept both of them in close quarters and there was no room for her to twist into a kick, so instead she jabbed her knee clean into his jaw, snapping his whole head back, the shield giving way to nothingness as she crash landed back to the floor, hand on her hip.

There was a click clack click from all over as each Agent pulled their firearms on Kimberly.

While all the gunmen were fixated on Kimberly, her emerald eyes were focused straight onto Will's beetle black ones. She smiled as did he and he snapped to the air.

One by one heads turned throughout the room, agents nodding and dropping their guns, trickling out of the room until it was just the two combatants.

They circled each other, each with the same intensity guided by a different feeling; Will's hands twitched at his sides, miming miniature actions of combat, while Kimberly's good hand rapped at her thigh, thumping with the increasing rapidity of her heart.

There was a finality that pulled between them, begging for last rites and final words but nothing came through.

"So are you ready then?" It was Will who broke the tension first.

"I guess, but if you could just return Wade's tech back to him — that'd be great."

Wade's?

It took Kimberly three paces to return to perfect alignment with Will.

"You don't want this?" his fist tapped at the chest of the battle suit.

"I really don't."

* * *

Chains rattled softly in their quiet sway, each turn of a metal link a tingling in Kimberly's heart.

As much as she wanted to keep an eye on Will, out of some sense of distrust, she couldn't help but glance up at this barrier she was evidently connected to.

But could she control it? An ethereal pulsating in her chest said yes, but as to what she could do and what that would mean — she did not understand.

She looked back to Will after one particularly long gaze up high and cracked a grin that made her feel young. "I'll settle for just the barrier if you'll help me carry it down the stairs."

* * *

Did this girl even have the power she laid claim to?

Why was the barrier just sitting there?

He had hoped for some Old Testament reckoning upon her arrival — it was odd enough that the thing had stuck around for as long as it did — hadn't she created it? Shouldn't it have responded to her presence?

He needed to know; this didn't make sense. It would be easy to paralyze her and hit her until she told him what he needed to know.

Ah, but then there was that part of him that _wanted_ her to dazzle him with those powers. All the easier to justify the girl's death.

* * *

A pull to Kimberly's heart from somewhere far off but nevertheless just as painful from somewhere close. A sadness and loss to grieve to, something she could somehow relate to. Not _her_ pain mind you.

It was Ron Stoppable's quivering lips that created this. The slow arching of his spine and shaking clenched fists at his sides. Blond cowlick drooped over his eyes and he was finally, truly alone. It was nothing that she did but nevertheless she could feel that something apocalyptic had just changed everything for him in one fell swoop.

Ron's tears welled at her eyes and maybe hers dripped from his. Was this how he felt during her freakout in Paris? She wished Will could understand that at that very moment she needed to drop the fight and find her friend, remind him that things were going to be okay because she was coming back for him soon. But he would probably kill her.

Her anger and His grief combined into one flinching spark that burst from the edges of the Mystical Barrier, incinerating one of the four chains that for so long had held it in place.

The corner dripped down and Kimberly bit her lip; she closed her eyes and emptied away the rage, pouring it into that lonely boy in Middleton who needed a warm hand to hold. The tension in her frame loosened and she wasn't afraid when Will bounced at her with his hands gnarled into claws. He slashed at her and like before she twisted out of the way, short hopping into the air, just avoiding the desperate swings.

Kimberly landed behind him, briefly hunching over from impact with the floor. Her right arm bent backwards like a swan's neck and grabbed Will's foot in the air; it was hard to explain how she knew where to throw her grip. Likely it had to do with the barrier.

Though still tethered to her own flesh and blood, Kimberly's body felt more like an instrument, her mind present everywhere in the room, her kicks and spins merely the tangible afterthoughts of something greater.

Kimberly released Will's foot without harming it, parrying his next kick with her own, ankles crossing like blades before retracting back. Will kicked at her again and she ducked under, stomach folding into itself. She rushed forward but he threw up a shield that bumped her back. She recovered fast, landing on her heels while he steadied himself.

Strange thoughts passed through her mind like flashing lights in the subway. Anger towards Betty, resentment towards Shego, bitterness at Drakken. So many people — so many shades of red. Even one unique shade of rose internalized within her — but was it Ron that was mad at her for using him as an emotional pincushion? Or was it her own hate?

It was easier to say that Ron hated her.

Why couldn't she feel anything among this cacophony of feeling?

Kimberly's body flew as if guided by a master ventriloquist and continuously Will threw up that damn shield. So unlike him to stay on the defense, but her energy was frenetic and left no breather — it was almost as if she were fighting for two.

Then again, she _was_ fighting for two.

Yards above, she could feel where the chains were weakening — and somehow she channeled that tension and threw it all into one chain.

She smiled and lashed out at Will again, and though the battle suit's shield had already been thrown up, her arm persevered and struck the energy head-on. There was a moment where Ron's dread about — something — held her back and though it pained _him_ , she held her pride and her arm breached, the shield briefly folding along the thrust of her hand, shattering into fragments that scattered along her sleeve, while her arm arched like a hook and bunched up a handful of the skin-tight uniform at Will's chest.

She eyed the chains up above and emptied her mind again and _snap!_ the chain besides the dangling corner burst and the weight of the shield flung the plane downwards, yanking down on the two remaining chains that already began to loosen.

Kimberly's hips pivoted and with a strength she didn't know was possible, she hurled Will into the air. The second she released him, she could already imagine the fear of throttling so high with no sense of control.

Will flew until his back collided hard with the barrier, the impact felt by both parties, and he did not catch himself when he fell back to the floor.

Will wiped the blood trickling from his mouth and she momentarily faltered. Across the planet, strange feelings of an upset Ron Stoppable couldn't understand were invading him at the worst of times. As light as her own steps were, her burden on him continuously threatened to snap back and rightfully ensnare her.

Will charged at her and struck hard, coming in and out but with every surprise, she moved faster. She twirled and spun at a pace that surpassed even her most needed adrenaline.

A twinge of guilt but then — the mission. If she had the heart, if she really cared, the mission — the work — would supersede everything else.

Will came at her again with such tremendous rage it made her wonder what she had truly done to spawn this from someone — and twisted again out of the way, the shield materializing again — this time managing to snag her across the torso, burning energy crossing her slender hips.

It hurt like Hell and for a moment he smiled because he thought that was game, set, match. But she grinned wider and threw her head back, and rubber banded back in, skull throttling into the shield, the shield immediately splintering into nothingness. Like before, she broke through, moving into dance, box stepping around the boy as he clawed at her.

As she slipped from his eyesight, the shield flew up again. But she was much closer than he anticipated, and she rose up fast, back sliding against his. He almost yelped and stepped away, bracing himself for attack but she merely blew a kiss. Teeth grit, he threw a punch to her jaw, but she sidestepped it.

It was no surprise that the shield flared again. Her spine arched perfectly with it, hand gripping the curve of the sphere with ease and she flipped off the floor and to the top of the shield, kicking off and launching into a move that — by the way — won the Cheer Regionals.

She landed ten feet away, arm raised. Will sneered and came at her again, going into a flurry of punches that he anticipated tailing with the shield — but — well — what happened to Icarus?

The battlesuit was spent and the shield faltered, not spawning fast enough to stop the girl. Kimberly grabbed Will by the arm and flung him across the air, slamming him into the floor. She jabbed a knee into his lower back and crouched down, lips close to his ear.

"Say Uncle."

Will snickered back.

"Um — Will?"

A convulsion of laughter almost pulled him from her grip. She steadied her hold on him and the laughter rose to a threatening staccato, like Toccata and Fugue in D Minor.

"Are you gonna kill me or what?" Will spat.

"I — I don't do that," Kimberly flubbed.

"Uh oh," Will's wet lips drew close together. "Then you're not gonna survive the night."

His heel flew up into her gut and he slipped from her grasp, rolling onto his back and flipping back to his feet. She rose up with his pace and glared back at him.

She should have felt pain — but nothing was there. Nothing. Completely void of feeling — all of it warped across the planet to her former — no — current — best friend. If — if he would have her.

But that wouldn't be if she continued to be so thoughtless — she closed her eyes and reimagined her pain and it slowly seeped back in. Her mind bubbled and it was hard to think straight, but it would help Ron.

Will's claws dragged him through the air, his range of movement lost to any precision, uncontrollable raw power sweeping wide arcs. Kimberly backed off in small steps, but it wasn't fast enough to keep a distance and Will's strikes remained very close.

There was a blur of white and blue and though he did not make impact, Kimberly could feel her skin sting with the speed of his punch. His arm continued to soar, throwing his entire body into a handstand behind her. His heel followed his slinky-like movements and nailed Kimberly clean in the jaw.

Blood spurt from her mouth and she turned to kick him in the head. Her foot flew high — and stopped at the roof of the barrier Will just threw up. Will smirked and he twirled at Kimberly, backhanding her across the cheek. The barrier fell back down and Kimberly stumbled back. She growled something inhuman and threw a punch at Will but yet again — the barrier flew back up and knocked her in the elbow, freezing her movement. Will came in again and struck her, sliding just out of reach.

Kimberly tried to kick him in the lower spine but the barrier once again tightened their quarters too much for anything of the sort and Will struck her from above the head. Stars in her eyes, she made a jab to his head but it merely struck the air, Will turning on a dime, throwing his body over hers, her arm wedged into his armpit.

"Will — " she began to say but then Will snapped her left arm against the turn of her elbow and she screamed. His own elbow came to her face and she sprawled across the floor, struggling to see past the flashing white light. Body too limp to even spring back up, Will stepped over her and with ease kept her pinned, his head mere inches above hers.

"Tell me how it feels Kimberly," he hissed, "To have come all this way just to fail."

"It doesn't," she groaned. "It's not over yet."

"Ha, that's cute," Will laughed, his fingers tentatively biting into her throat, skin crumpling by his hand.

Contempt plumed in her eyes and her broken left arm snapped inwards. The bones were broken and the nerves had been sethered, already ruined by the wrath of this ungodly magic. Yet somehow, her arm rose high, barely hanging by the seams. The hand opened wide, fingers bending deeply at the joints, folding in as if grasping something tangible into its palm. The sleeve fell past her elbow but Will hadn't noticed. Sweat beaded across his forehead, tunnel vision running in his eyes.

This was his moment after all.

Her left arm was contorted into something inhuman. Slowly it slithered back into proper shape, bones bonding one by one. Coming back together to how they were _—_

— " _Mystical Monkey Healing, who knew?"_ Ron tried to laugh after being horribly burnt during the MIT sitch _—_

— and all it would take was one strike to his skull and she could end him. He would die and the suit would be hers to carry home.

She could imagine Will writhing in her grip — eventually he would understand that it was fruitless and he would look to her and die.

She would smile. Muscles would pull the skin taut past weary bone and the dark lines under her eyes would finally match the picture.

Tears trickled from Kimberly's eyes, hand faltering right above Will's head, paralyzed by indecision.

"God, you are pathetic," Will sneered. "Everyone knew you once as the pinnacle of heroism and now look at you. You can't even win when you have all the power in the world fueling you — because you don't even believe that what you are doing is right."

It would be so easy.

But she thought of Ron. Remembered how he tethered her.

She couldn't become this.

She closed her eyes and thought it — but that wasn't enough. So she gave her love a voice.

"I love you, Ron."

Will blinked. "What? No. I'm Will — Will Du — are — "

Boom.

The bonds in Kimberly's healing arm vanished and she screamed as the crumpled flesh fell back besides her. Pain, confusion, fear, despair, all of it, back to her mind at once and she screamed. The second to final chain on the barrier snapped and the barrier began turning in place, bouncing turquoise light all across the hangar.

Though her connection to him had been erased, she never felt closer to Ron Stoppable. She hoped he could know that too. And he would if she could survive.

Kimberly writhed and kicked Will off of her, scrambling back without any of the old panache. She boosted herself to bent knees and looked past the rogue Agent to see the spiraling barrier. Ripples of power contorted the air around them. She looked back down to see Will's smile gnarled into something possessed. Her feet flung up and beat him back, bones shaking with every impact.

Both of her arms had been broken and as the duo flipped through combat, the vestigial appendages flapped besides her, heaving on the pain. Her throat was dry and closed up and the very idea that she was somehow still alive made her want to call her parents and thank them for every good thing they had ever done. Ever will do.

She hopped over a particularly crushing kick, landing in a crouch that just kept her out of the reach of a flurry of punches. Without hesitating, she charged forward and kicked Will back.

The waves of power from the Mystical Monkey Barrier passed through her, rattling her chest and begging her to grab back on.

"I don't get it," Will said slowly. "Why do you keep getting back up? You obviously want this to end as much as I do."

"If you're asking why I'm not trying to kill you I think we already talked that over."

The floor was almost shaking. Will's lip curled high. "I don't believe you. I think you're a coward."

"That's a gross oversimplification," but fair, "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"Which is what — dismantling democracy?"

She couldn't recall when it had started but they began to circle each other again. "No — I'm just — " She looked at Will for a long time. " — I have to stop you."

Something twitched in his eye. "Likewise."

Their circling stopped. Throbbing from all over.

"So then — what?" she asked.

"Stop me — do it," he growled.

Her voice was weak. "Okay. If you insist — "

A horrible crack and the final chain splintered, the barrier tumbling from up above, crashing into the floor and shattering. The fragments dissipated fast and the room became consumed in sapphire light. Kimberly's chest pulled with the force of the Mystical Monkey Power and she swallowed something strong as Will stampeded to her.

With every step Will took, the metal floor rolled along with him, literally sloping with his flat boots, rising and falling with each impact. He rose into the air and swung down on top of her, fist throttling at her face. She dodged to the side and watched carefully as the boy slipped inches past her. The tension of the magic wouldn't leave her and she could feel a burning run up her arm as bone began to fuse with tendon again — but she ignored it.

She had to. It wasn't her power to brandish anymore.

Somehow, she was holding him off, and in between his onslaught she caught him in a moment of vulnerability. One kick into his windpipe and she could stomp him until there was nothing left.

But she blinked.

She could feel _him_ writhing — gripping his chest and screaming out loud at the sudden pain, begging his Sensei to tell him once and for all what was going on. But there was only silence. The pain surged deeply and though not even a second had passed in this whole duration and she was still glaring down at the unknowingly open form of Agent Will Du — Kimberly could see those chocolate eyes staring up at nothingness.

There was a flicker in that familiar gaze that told her this was eye contact and not madness. Ron was there, hand folded to his chest, white lips trying to mouth something. Something to encourage her? To plead with her?

Had they become this distant that she couldn't tell anymore?

She asked herself how she felt and understood that her own eyes were plagued by fear. Her shoulders relaxed and that ugly crack along her cheek faded away into the last remains of her baby fat. She smiled to her friend and made sure to stay strong.

The choking decompressed from her throat, the icy feeling in her chest snapping something in her as it left.

The sapphire light got darker and Will's black eyes widened. There was a brief exchange where his body, though posed to fight, bared no ill will.

"Will," the croak caught in her throat. "Don't — "

All life sapped from the room and her neck cracked backwards with the turn. Will's mouth hung agape as color returned to the corners of the room, the darkest core mobilizing around Will as the raw power crackled into his back. He slumped at the force, chin dipping into his chest.

"Will, please, don't do this!" Kimberly screamed. "You can't — it's too much — it's — "

He gurgled something sad and looked back up with icy blue eyes, face pale. "I — I can — I can — "

He took one light step forward as if it might be his last when the stripes running along his forearms began to glow. All over, the blue stripes of the battlesuit lit up, radiating the same intensity of the magic, shimmering and changing with every moment. " — h-h-hand—handle it." As the suit got brighter, Will's old posture took back over and the color returned to his face. "I can handle it."

Magic flowed from Will's fingertips, smoking blue trails into the air.

" _This_ is why you blew up the Bermuda Triangle?" Will's voice was unearthly high. "I guess I was overreacting — Betty was right to cut my budget, haha." He only intended to laugh once but it kept on flowing through him. "Excuse me," he pinched his elbow to his face and rattled off the tears.

He stomped towards her calmly, the lightshow on the battlesuit almost impossible to look away from. "I don't understand Kimberly," he smirked, a crackling lashing of magic sweeping the floor before his feet. "Why did you lie? You obviously — " a surge of energy briefly threw him off. But he shook it off and returned. " — this power isn't your normal, but I can see how your idiot sidekick wasn't able to control this."

Sharp teeth flashed at her before folding back under thin lips. "Thank you," he whispered softly, back contorting with another throw of power. He winced and looked back to her as the power rippled from all over, waves of blue passing between them.

"W—Will — " Kimberly quaked. "Please. You don't need the power to kill me; just let it go. It's — it's dangerous."

Will's laugh was a squeak and the sapphire light glowed so brightly she couldn't see his full movements, almost like skipped frames. There was a pattering running along the floor and though Will was still so far from her, she felt the rumble of his closeness and she tried to defend herself but it was useless to resist. He grabbed her and threw her yards across the room.

Her back slammed against stone, cracks splintering the wall fast, and she fell to the floor in a heap. Blood pouring from her mouth, she looked up at Will as he stepped closer. A flicker and he was ten yards back, a flash and he was in front of her, another crack and he was one yard away, but his gaze didn't shift. "Isn't it so much more delicious for you yourself to have created the one thing that will destroy you? Your whole mission was to stop — this — correct? Haha. You loser." It didn't sound like him at all.

Light burst between the cracks and the wall crumbled off into the ocean deep below. Kimberly glanced over her shoulder and saw the waves rocking against the support beams of the HQ. She winced at the sunlight and turned back to Will, just dodging a punch to her face, but the remnants of power cast from his fist still struck her and knocked her to the floor.

Mere inches from death, Kimberly spun and pivoted around the newly created ledge, ducking and dodging anything that came her way, through with each strike, a wave of power tore from Will, a power that not even Ron had — or had at least been aware of.

They bobbed in and out from each other, Will's movements almost impossible to decipher, constantly warping along with the almost random surges of power. But when his hand clawed at her throat and the air cut off, her knee rose to his stomach and he grunted as his heels slipped past the edge and he fell fast.

"WILL!"

Kimberly screamed, hand grabbing at Will's falling one, missing his fingertips by inches. She glowered down and without hesitation, leaped after him, diving headfirst towards the vicious waters.

Will looked up and spun in the air, blasts of power hurling from his hands. She weaved in and out, swiftly dodging each flurry, the heat nevertheless burning her sides as it passed through. Her brow furrowed and she saw the unmistakably sparking that clouded Will from all around.

"Will — stop! You're going to — "

A primal scream and he hurled one last blast and there was a terrible explosion of blue.

The blast never reached Kimberly, instead, the blue overcame Will and he screamed no more. Kimberly's eyes opened wide as she dove into the sapphire light and desperately reached out for this person, and she smiled when she grabbed his gloved hand.

But when she emerged from the blast radius and she swung her broken right arm over her utility belt and fired out a grapple line that caught her, suspending her in the air, she looked back at what she held and saw that it was just the battlesuit. Her shattered fingers crumpled against the wrinkled fabric and a scream that scratched her innards bellowed from her dry mouth.

* * *

Much later, she was able to hook her legs onto the grapple line and climb back up to the base, limp battlesuit clamped in her jaw. She spat the thing to the floor and looked back up at Doctor Elizabeth Director, who had been waiting with crossed arms and a coy expression.

Kimberly stumbled up to her feet, heart still pounding, and said, "The power was too much for him. He's gone." She tried not to cry, but it was past that point.

Something chilled in Betty's cheeks and the woman nodded. "It's on you."

"I — I tried to save him, Betty."

"I know," Betty chided. "No one could have." An ugly cave folded under her one good eye. "Cheer up little girl; you've just been granted a full pardon for all your crimes."

Kimberly's legs gave out from under her.

"You boldly went up against Agent William Du who had gone rogue in his witch-hunt on you some time ago, an Agent who lied and cheated to set you up."

"What? That's not — "

"Shut up."

Kimberly's eyes fell to the floor.

"There's no point in holding a manhunt on you; you're never going to run high with the bad ones s you can take back your friend's little science project," Betty snipped and turned on her heel, head briefly cracking to her shoulder. Her voice dropped low. "Mm, and by the way, your full pardon comes with a formal offer to come here and work directly under me; think about it but first: happy holidays. Enjoy your first free day back among people."

* * *

Bortel tried to get Kimberly's attention as she somberly exited Global Justice HQ. Both arms now in slings, heavy bruises along her jaw and under her squinted eye, ragged ponytail showing the cuts and stabs that rode along her cheeks. One particularly scathing look was all it took for him to back off.

It was an old contact of Team Possible that rode her back across the ocean and to civilization. While at first he was a chatterbox, one look at his phone shut him up.

"I knew you were a good kid, Kimmie," the man waved her off, interestingly hesitant in saying so.

There was a Bermuda Triangle location in DC Kimberly and Bortel were supposed to reconvene at, but that wasn't happening. Kimberly was fortunately able to use the little leverage she had left to get the captain to dock at a different port.

 **Washington DC: Maryland  
** **December 25, 2007: 1:30PM**

She was hungry and tired. Though it felt vain to do so, she plowed through the dense streets of DC until she found a relatively quiet coffee shop with reasonable prices. She slipped in and kept her head bowed until it was time to make a purchase.

"Could I have a small Americano? Hot and black please," she tried not to lift her eyes.

"Sure sweetheart. Could we have your name?"

Kimberly looked up and saw the barista waiting with a sharpie and paper cup. "Could we do it for here?"

Something dawned in the barista's eyes and she nearly dropped the sharpie. "Oh shoot, sorry."

"How much is it?"

"Um. $3.25."

"'Kay," Kimberly looked down to her belt and made a sigh that had the texture of a sandpaper. "I'm gonna make this really weird sorry," she rolled her eyes and shifted her hip onto the counter, pivoting until the wallet was close to the barista. "It's in the big pouch closest to you. Sorry, I forgot about — " They both looked into each other's wide eyes for a long time. Eventually Kimberly blushed and looked away. " — arms. My arms are broken. Wait. Shit — shoot, I mean — um — I — why am I ordering coffee?"

The barista flinched.

Kimberly looked behind the bar and saw someone measuring the espresso grind for her drink. "Could you make that iced? Sorry, oh, and do you have — metal straws?"

Two minutes later after the most awkward fiscal transaction of her life —

— " _Uh, I hope this doesn't come off as invasive_ — _this isn't a wallet."_

" _Oh yeah, huh, that's a taser. Sorry. Must be one pouch over."_ —

— why was she at a coffee shop when she should have been at a hospital?

There was a television playing Christmas specials, not Snowman Hank though. She almost asked the barista if they could try to see if that was playing anywhere, but the tension was already thick, somehow made worse after Kimberly felt too awkward asking the barista to put the $16.75 leftover from her $20 back into her wallet and instead allowed the whole thing to be stuffed into the tip jar.

The coffee shop filled up fast, mostly elderly folk, and it felt wrong to occupy a four seat table to herself, especially when it was Christmas.

As she walked out, she inadvertently caught the eyes of some folks who had been staring at their phones. How had the news spread so fast? And what exactly was public? Obviously the full pardon was — but did people know about the death of Agent William Du?

Did people buy it? She almost didn't believe Betty when she told her — but Betty would rather lie to millions of people than just one confused girl. Yeah, the woman was vindictive — but it was all with purpose.

"Hi," there was a tug on Kimberly's coat. She looked down and saw a little girl looking up at her with something too innocent to be classified as any other emotion.

"Elizabeth!" the little girl's parents tried to pull her away. "It's rude to bother — "

Kimberly knelt down and looked directly into the girl. "Hey champ. What's up?"

The little girl shrank. "I always knew you were a good guy."

"Th—thank you," the wind had been knocked out of Kimberly. She looked up to the parents with watery eyes, but they glared back with something more concrete. She nodded and got back to her feet abruptly. "Merry Christmas guys."

* * *

There was a flashing red light on her Kimmunicator; that meant there had been some kind of distress beacon. Not like it had been Wade.

The Kimmunicator rolled around in her cast for some time, fingers limply tapping against the plastic from time to time. She wasn't ready for this.

"Ron?"

"Hi KP."

 **Alleyway: Washington DC, Maryland  
** **December 25, 2007: 2:03PM**

Though Ron's words were short, there was some pain to them, something that never lived in his voice. He shimmered as if tears were sparkling from his eyes.

"Ron, did — did I hurt you?"

"No KP, you tried," Ron sounded weaker than even. "Um. Something happened."

"I felt it happen — are — are you okay?"

"Yeah," he lied and abruptly folded up into tears. "No — no, I'm not Kim. Shoot, I shouldn't be talking about me — that's why we — um — are — are you okay Kim?"

She thought about it, knees crunching closer to her chest. "No. But that doesn't matter when I'm with you."

The romance of it felt disingenuine no matter how true to her heart it was.

"Aw Kim," a little chuckle escaped his chattering lips. "You always know just what to say — um — " She could see his tongue pushing out and retracting as he held back a slew of questions. "I was wondering — um — shoot," the tears returned.

"Ron, you can talk to me, it's okay," Kimberly tried to be warm.

"Okay," he repeated in the same tone. "I wanted to ask if you could come home. I know that — that you have a lot going on but — "

Cold creeped into her heart from all edges.

" — if even just for a day," he finished.

"Ron..."

"Kim?"

She remembered the anguish that coursed through Ron's soul, the anguish that she had to ignore so she could go toe to toe with Will. An anguish that she herself fed with her own negative emotions.

"What happened?"

"Rufus just died."


	20. Forever Scarred

Rufus' funeral was well attended though really no one there was anyone Ron wanted to talk to.

 **Pine Hill Cemetery: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 26, 2007: 1:01PM**

There was a strange disconnect during the wake. While many familiar faces had turned up to give tribute to a true hero, they weren't really mourning for him. No, they were mourning for him and Kim and what had been.

Few understood who Rufus really was.

Yes, a grandiose funeral for a naked mole rat on paper seemed silly, but he was Ron's best friend, a tiny little fella with incredible ingenuity who understood him, who stepped up to the plate with him to match Kim.

There were so many missions that would have gone topsy turvy without him, and while there were no more missions to embark on, his loss still cut deep.

Rufus' last healthy day was July 16th. He had tagged along with Kim & Ron on what ended up being their final mission together. It seemed like a simple sitch: stop Drakken and Shego from robbing Doctor Cyrus Bortel at MIT. But of course things escalated and fire consumed the school; Rufus faced the brunt of it, little lungs not able to hold themselves strong against the toxic fumes that forever crippled him.

Ever since then, he was weak and feeble. It was a slow burn that did him in and while so many people kept saying _at least he died peacefully_ , bitterness rattled Ron because none of these phonies had been there.

Rufus was dying every day and thought he fought hard to stay alive — he wasn't strong enough. Ron just wished that the little could have opened his eyes just one more time to receive the gift Ron got him for Christmas.

Then again — Ron should have known better; he knew every second mattered. Imagine if Rufus' last memory was Christmas Eve night and instead of Ron just playing with him like any day — if he — if he — if he gave him the gift. And then played. And sang him to sleep instead of rolling onto bed and shutting off the lights because he felt depressed and lonely.

How could he have been so selfish to take such a special day for granted?

"Hi," Kimberly's voice was low and matted in melancholy. Ron consciously straightened his spine and turned over to her, streaks of tears neatly dividing his patchy face into sections.

It had only been a little under five months and he almost didn't recognize her. Long hair that once touched the small of her back had been neatly cropped to frame her face in a bob. Once rosy skin had paled, dark lines crafting caves of gray under her eyes. Her posture more like Ron's, shrunken and withdrawn, especially with her broken arms held by a matrix of slings and casts.

Chapped lips drew into a sharp grin and her shoulders gently rose and fell in a roll that told him she would have held him if she could. So he took the initiative and very tentatively wrapped his arms around her, clammy hands scratching at her black dress, both of them sobbing once out of sight of the other.

A lot of heads turned to see it.

At some point, Kimberly's bare knees quaked and plunged into dirty piles of snow. Ron followed her down, grip on her weak-willed frame desperate to follow her anywhere.

* * *

"So….how have you been?"

"Me? Um….honestly, KP….I feel kinda sad but I know — I know I'm okay."

 **Pine Hills Cemetery: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 26, 2007: 1:18PM**

Ron's exit with Kimberly had made for a fast end to the funeral. They watched somberly from a hill far over as the sea of black slowly dissipated across the blanket of white. Ron's hand itched towards where Kimberly's would have been had she not been crippled.

"Did that make sense?" Ron asked when Kimberly didn't respond.

"Yeah," the sound barely escaped her. "I'm really proud of you. I can't say it enough Ron, you make me want to be stronger — I'm really sorry about your Bueno Nacho by the way. The staff spoke very fondly of you."

Ron nodded. "It's okay, it's not like you blew it up. Can I ask you something though Kim?"

He was the one person left who could still call her by that name. Her lips pressed together and she nodded.

"Why did you let Shego treat you like that?" Ron finally said.

"What do you mean?"

Ron bowed his head. "At Bueno Nacho. She hit you, didn't she?"

Kimberly looked over; her eyes were the only way to make any physical contact, but he ignored it. She caught the stiffened shoulders and looked into her own lap. "Um. I don't know. I like Shego I guess. I mean she doesn't like me — " she chuckled darkly but stuffed it away fast. "We're not together if that's what you're asking."

Ron's head bowed deeper and he closed his eyes. "But you like girls now?"

"Um. Yeah — I always kinda did — th—that's not to say I don't like boys I do — I really liked you." Kimberly's heels clicked together.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Um — I was scared. I thought it would go away if we just kept working." There was an uncomfortable pause. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No," Ron said quickly. "I've been really busy. Between school and Rufus and Rieger — "

"Rieger?"

"Yeah, I lived with him this semester, it was really annoying because people kept knocking on the door for 'Ron' — as in Rieger, not the guy who threw two aliens into space. But yeah, Rieger and I broke up," he forced a smile and winked at her. "Sorry, I shouldn't — you don't want to hear about this."

"Yes I do," Kimberly raised her eyebrows.

Ron opened his eyes fully and looked to her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Also you forgot the part where you were busy making it look like I was back to hero work."

"Oh right," Ron blinked. "I kinda forgot about that. You know what was crazy about that? My pants fell off every time I went on a mission! It's a curse Kim. Gosh, there's so much to talk about."

"I know," she echoed. "I want to hear all of it."

Ron bristled at the attention. "Well, that means you'll have to stay a few days, huh?"

Kimberly's smile crinkled up before quickly falling. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why?" he asked innocently.

"Um. I don't know. I mean — I need to tie up loose ends with Shego." Off Ron's hurt expression she added, "I was working for her after all. Um, but! I — I was good still, I didn't — we clashed a lot." Ron raised an eyebrow and she found her explanation trailing off into scary details that were probably better kept quiet. "She wanted me to kill Betty. Um — not that — not that I was going to — I would never — "

Ron's eyes were as wide as an excited cat's. Kimberly's jaw weakened and she stopped talking, bowing her head so that her hair fell past her face.

"Jeez Kim," Ron tried to keep it gentle. "What happened to you?"

Kimberly didn't really know what to say, so instead she asked a question. "Have you been talking to Sensei?"

"Huh? Oh — yeah. Um — yeah."

"What?"

"This is kinda heavy but Sensei's — I don't know if you knew this but Will attacked Yamanouchi a few months ago and um — well — he hurt Sensei really bad, let's just say that."

She almost wanted to voice how happy that made her — but she stopped the joy dead in its tracks; Ron didn't need to know about her little rendez-vous with Sensei in New Hampshire. At least for now.

"Why did Will go to Yama—oh. Oh." Kimberly slouched deeper, knees pricking up past her wrists. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault — I mean, sure, a dialog before you took credit for my power would have been — "

" — it was improvised. I thought I was going to go to jail forever and it wouldn't matter. I was just trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection—"

"Um. Ron. Hello? MIT? Algeria? Ring a bell — shoot, sorry — sorry," Kimberly jumped back to her feet and looked for a way out. "I'm sorry, I'm not in a good place — I should go."

"Kim! Please. Don't." Ron jumped up in her wake and grabbed her shoulders. "Don't go."

Kimberly relaxed into his touch and they slowly creaked back down to their tree branch, her hip brushing his stomach and she sat on his lap. He double taked as he very tangibly became aware of how much lighter she had become.

"Can I ask you something else?" Ron frowned.

"Can we please talk about your life Ron? I can't — I can't do this anymore."

The rise and fall of Ron's chest breathed heat into Kimberly's chilled bones. Though crying, she nuzzled her face to his and smiled, throat dry, cracking apart as a bizarre laugh croaked from her. "What?" she whispered.

"You didn't um — with uh — with Will? Did you?"

She pivoted and looked Ron right in the eyes. "No."

He already sort of knew but he sighed nevertheless. "So — what happened then?"

"Um," Kimberly's voice became very thin. "I don't know if Wade told you but the battlesuit was designed to absorb your power I guess."

"Oh," Ron replied tonelessly.

"I know, it was supposed to be a surprise but — Shego wanted me to kill Betty, so I used her scheme so I could get into Global Justice and steal the battlesuit back — I wasn't going to use it. I just wanted to give it back to Wade. But things changed and — well, you felt it yesterday, right?"

"Yeah," Ron sank deeper into the curve of the tree.

"I'm sorry that happened."

"It's okay."

"It's not."

"I know."

Kimberly swallowed. "The power was — it _wanted_ me to kill Will. But — I — I don't do that." Her eyes narrowed as she remembered the deer and wolf that died at her hands. "So the power left me — "

" — I felt that. That was really brave of you"

"Thanks. Will got it and — it was too much. He — um — I really tried to save him, Ron."

Ron tried to look past Kimberly's auburn hair to see her eyes but it wasn't possible. But he felt her breath and it was even. "I know you did, Kim."

"Thanks."

"Did Will break your arms?" Ron's tongue hissed at the plural.

"One of them, yeah."

"How — how'd the other one break?"

Kimberly's eyes pulled away and she remembered the blue aura that she trusted — the one that lead her to Jefferson. The one she visited late at night — praying for reconciliation but instead the aura assaulted her. Grabbed her breast, forced its tongue down her mouth, and when she tried to stop the phantasm from killing the librarian, it broke her arm.

Of course this was Sensei.

"Shego left me to die in the woods — I was out there for like two weeks and this wolf — "

"Oh my God, Kim."

Ron wrapped his arms around her and brought her in. "I wish I could have helped you."

"You did, I couldn't stop thinking about you," she didn't feel his touch. "Don't feel bad, I did this to myself."

"You know," Ron brushed a shoulder past his ear. "I can heal those if you want."

* * *

"It doesn't hurt too much does it?"

Kimberly's limbs fell across her lap, pulling on her shoulders and chest that were propped up against pillows.

"A little, but don't worry about it, Ron."

 **Ron's Bedroom: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 26, 2007: 2:32PM**

"Okay," Ron whispered, hands hesitating before grabbing her forearms. "I've never done this before — consciously at least, but I feel like if I really want it — it'll happen."

"You can make anything happen."

Kimberly couldn't understand what it was that was making her so forwardly flirtatious — or was it just genuine feeling? How real were her cravings? And when she said these of kind things, what did they mean to her? Did he understand that she still loved him?

"I gotta say, Kim," Ron smiled as blue light trailed down crooked fingers and rolled up her arms. "Ever since you went Bad Girl, you've said some pretty nice things to me."

Kimberly nestled deeper into the pillows and looked around the room as she felt the bones and tendons mend; it wasn't like the haunting reanimation that carried her vestigial arm into the air during the fight with Will. Ron's hands gently pressed against her flesh, each soft touch creating miracles.

"Do you use your powers often?" Kimberly asked the ceiling light.

"Not really, Sensei's mad at me that I don't," Ron's brow furrowed. "Like when I took down Dementor, Motor Ed, and all them I only accessed the Mystical Monkey Power once. Ya know? I wish it had a shorter name, saying Mystical Monkey Power is a whole thing. Um. But yeah, to be honest, even that use of it was a little overdone — which is why your story about Will scares me. That could happen to me too."

"Maybe Wade making the battlesuit was a good thing then," Kimberly tried hard to keep her voice warm. "He designed it for me but I could never do it Ron. You should have it. Take the suit."

"What for?"

"Ya never know. But if it'll help channel your powers better, I'd say it's a good idea."

"If I can be so bold Kim — I don't want to do that anymore," his lips pressed tautly together and he remembered Yori's mission she handed down to him. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Shoot."

"Do you have a plan?"

The oddly calm yet deliberate question therapists would have to ask their ideating patients. Kimberly's heart thumped and a familiar dread came to her. Yes, the answer was. Yes, she had made a plan already. No, that wasn't what he meant but yes, it was what she thought.

"Oh geez, did I say something?" Ron asked as Kimberly's head turned away.

"No, it's not you, it's me," she caught herself. "And I don't mean that in a shitty way."

Ron blinked. Since when did Kim talk like that? He nodded and pricked up his ears for her.

"You were asking me what I plan to do with my life right? The answer is — um — not a whole lot, Ron. This is kind of it for me."

"You don't mean that do you?"

Ron didn't think it was possible for the color to drain even more from Kimberly's face but it found a way. "I mean — I hope not — " she said dryly. "Why is Sensei pressuring you by the way? Like who is the next Big Evil to take down? Yono lost and your arch-nemesis kinda turned into a rock — oh my God, it's not me is it?"

It wasn't any tangible effort that gave Ron a successful poker face; it was the utter lack of feeling that shrank his expressions. "No KP; Sensei knows better than that."

Her eyes narrowed because clearly something unsaid was lingering.

"Your arms are fixed by the way," Ron smiled and gently brought his hands back to his lap, wrists bending into the bed sheets.

Kimberly flashed a grin and reached forward, fingers each pushing little circles into far off points on his back, lips drawing close to his.

"You sure this is a good idea, Kim?" Ron shuttered.

"I don't know, but I love you, you know?"

Kimberly's lips cracked at his touch, his smooth, wet flesh enveloping hers. His lips fell from her face and kissed her neck while he tentatively fished at her blouse, popping it open button for button. Though he knew about the star shaped scar that marked her thin waist, memorized it even to a point where he sketched it into to so many walls as Kimberly's calling card, he still jumped at the real life sight of it.

Her eyes locked with his fast and she jabbed her nose up against his upper-jaw, nibbling at Ron's neck while her hands snapped off the rest of the blouse, the thin baby blue material falling to her hips, flared out almost like a cape.

"Did it hurt?" he whimpered.

"I don't want to talk about that," she almost hissed. "It happened and it's passed."

"But why — why did you make it your symbol?" Ron leaned into her sway.

"Shego," was all Kimberly could think of. She broke from the kiss and quickly unbuttoned her pants, legs writhing as the slacks folded into the same flatness of the blouse. Her other hand pressed Ron's chest, slowly edging him back, laying him across the bed as she climbed above him.

"Kim — this is really fast."

"I know — but we might not have a lot of time to ever do this."

"I thought you were done fighting."

Something sharp pulled at her and she flinched. "It's not fighting that I'm worried about."

"Does this mean you want to start dating again?" he asked the ceiling.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Do you want to?"

"I don't know," he was just as quiet. "Do you even like me?"

She hesitated as he opened his shirt and ran fingers through the light blond hairs on his chest. "I love you."

"Oh." He had forgotten how much warmth a body had to give. "Kim, can we slow down?"

His pants were halfway to his knees when she froze, nodding slowly, knees to his stomach, calves running along his hips.

"Why do you have bandages around your wrists?" Ron hadn't responded to any of her touch.

She bit her lip.

"Oh my God, Kim," he boosted himself back up, head level with her chest. "Kim — "

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Kim," he released the bed sheets to hold one of her wrists, a touch so light it barely registered. "Let me heal this."

"No!" she jerked her hands to her clavicle. "These are different."

"What? Kim — Kim, listen to me — you need help."

She bowed her head and wedged fingernails under the cotton straps. "They're part of me."

"I don't — I don't understand," Ron returned his hold to the bed and waited for her response.

Her dilated pupils strayed from the frayed bandages and darkened.

"I made these wounds — everything else was some act of violence meant to kill me — like the scar was Bonnie, the arms were Will….but these I chose for better or for worse — they got me here, I know it sounds weird."

Their backs arched into the same descent.

"I don't think we're ready to be together again," Ron said.

"I know we're not," she gasped, sweat beading all across her slack-jawed face. "I just want you to be happy Ron. If you want me to — "

Something caught in her throat and Ron waited, but she remained with her tongue pressed between teeth. It wasn't until Ron called out her name that she retracted and turned away.

 _I just want you to be happy._

"Kim, you're seriously scaring me right now."

She brushed the hair from her eyes and threw her legs off the side of the bed, whipping her pants into the air and slapping them across her skin.

" _Shego._

 _The only reason I went after Drakken is because I thought you missed him._

 _I just want you to be happy."_

"Kim, you're not already leaving are you?"

"I am," she straightened her back and pulled the slacks past her stomach, hiding the scar from sight. Her arms scooped up the blouse and flung it over her shoulders. "I need to take care of someone."

"Kim, please stay with me. This doesn't have to continue."

"I know."

She looked back at him and he waited with bated breath, her body almost vibrating with energy. So it almost threw him off balance when she reached out and clamped her fingers side by side along his narrow shoulder.

"But you wouldn't understand."

"Try me," he jumped to her height.

"I have to do something for me right now, it's been a hot second."

"What?" Ron blinked. "Are you — Kim! What was all this then?! Have you not been doing things for yourself?!"

"You have no idea what I've been through," her hands fell from her half-buttoned blouse and to her sides. "You don't know how I feel."

He hesitated. "Yeah. You're right. Clearly _I_ don't know you anymore."

"Ron, that's not fair."

"Well what am I supposed to think?! You come into my Bueno Nacho, delirious, and — and — and — Shego follows you in, argues with you, you were shrinking Kim! You let her walk all over you and — "

"Okay, fine, I fell in love with Shego," Kimberly had an iron hold on her composure to keep her voice low and figure still. "But I know she's manipulating me — manipulated — me. It's over now. Please. Why are you being weird about this? Is it because I like girls?"

"Y—yes, honestly," Ron pouted. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't know it was this serious — listen — " she squeezed the bridge of her nose and took in a deep breath, summoning every last scrap of courage that she had left. When the fragments melded together and her eyes opened, Ron jumped back out of fear because of the fired that raged in her eyes.

"I need to take care of this alone. Please believe me when I say that I haven't been in control for a long time now, and trust that I am in control now. And if you could call me Kimberly from now on, that'd be great."


	21. Parting Blows

"Oh yeah, agreed — the Global Justice scheme is dead and I think next we should target — oh. Ah — Hank? I need a second."

"Shego, I flew all the way from DC just to get our finances straight— oh. I see."

"Yeah — it'll take just a second."

 **Bermuda Triangle: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 26, 2007: 10:02PM**

"You got anything to say in your defense, Princess?"

"No."

Kimberly stood straight-backed, separated by a table of criminals who quickly scattered at the sight of her. She giggled under her breath and then looked back to Shego. "Not with any rationale you would understand at least."

"Oh, you can try me," Shego hiked a leg onto the table and jumped aboard, plasma flaring from her heels and eating into the tablecloth. It fluttered like a jellyfish as it bobbed up and down with the rising heat. After mere seconds, the rim of the cloth disintegrated into ash. "I see your arms are miraculously fixed — I didn't know your ex-boyfriend was some Jesus Christ-esque figure. What did he say about the wrists?"

"Shut up. This isn't about that."

"Sure — well I'm still seeing bandages so — y'know what? You're right; I don't care. Whatever happened, you decided to come here because you can't get enough of us can ya? Wow, and within a day of your stupid rat's funeral — "

Kimberly reeled Shego in by the tie and grit her teeth, though Shego's lips remained cooly folded over her canines. "You don't get to joke."

"Oh wow, so did Monkey Boy heal your spine too?"

"We're not together if that's what you're asking," Kimberly nearly cracked her own teeth.

"Aw, and here I was really looking forward to _not_ needing to kiss you to get you to do something."

Hank looked over to them. "I was wondering about that actually — "

"Not now," Shego and Kimberly spoke with the same cadence of a Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel harmony.

Kimberly's hands twitched with the instinct to kill; it wouldn't be hard. But that was what Shego wanted, right? Everything so far had just been a ploy — a trap to get her to dive deeper down. None of it was for her own good.

"You used me," Kimberly growled.

"Da doy, Princess."

"Why?" Kimberly dragged Shego so close that the younger girl's elbows pressed against her own chest. Hank got up with a start. "Why me? Why did you make me do all this?"

"No one made you do anything — case in point: our li'l smooch sessions."

Shego's heels clicked off the floor as her feet dragged against the floor and flipped as if they were moving on their own. Kimberly released the tie and grabbed Shego's throat, fingers ensnaring the ghostly white flesh. She felt the tension bubble against her thumb as she squeezed the life out of her.

But it wasn't enough. Shego's eyes remained oddly calm; she had seen this before. Back at MIT when Kimberly had floored the mercenary and claimed to never want to see her again. The darkness plumed in Kimberly's eyes but like before it was dormant, more flashy than scary. "You gonna do it this time? Because if so I might actually have to kiss you and mean it."

Something snapped in Kimberly and her hands popped off Shego, retreating back to her sides. They both exchanged brief eye contact and Shego cackled, spinning her tie around her finger before letting it flap back into place.

"Anyways, whatever, hey. Take a seat with us." She raised a hand in the air as she turned back to Hank. It took Kimberly a decent amount of time before she marched after the woman, pulling a chair over and sitting between the two.

Hank looked over his reading glasses, hesitating in the middle of his administrative speak. Off of Kimberly's dull gaze, he shrugged and returned back to reading statistics off.

"What are you talking about?" Kimberly asked curiously.

"Calculating loss from your Global Justice blunder," Hank tutted.

"It was not a blunder — "

Shego's hand snapped onto Kimberly's wrist. Kimberly hadn't noticed but some surge of anger snapped her hand out to close Hank's books. She blushed at her lack of control and slouched in the chair.

" — okay, I didn't do what you asked me to — but they don't have the battlesuit or the magic. The big dang doomsday machine is kaput — "

" — and more importantly," Shego added between sips of red wine. "Freakin' Will Du got iced."

Kimberly slumped further down. "That's not funny."

"I know. It's not," the mercenary settled the wine glass down, licking her lips. "It's real."

An uncomfortable silence.

"It was an accident," Kimberly slipped in.

"We know. You don't have the nerve for that — but you make a fair point, naive as you are, kiddo, Global Justice _has_ been neutralized."

Hank's pupils dilated. "No it hasn't — what are you talking about?"

Shego wagged a finger. "For what a bad job Princess did — Betty knows that we have her under crosshairs now and if she does happen to push the envelope deeper — well — let's just say we are oh-bee-vee not sending in Kimmie for the kill."

"Oh-bee-vee, yeah," Kimberly tried not to roll her eyes because that would be juvenile — though she did so anyways. "So you know why I'm here then, right? I'm quitting."

Hank dropped his pencil and it rolled across the glass table. "Did you honestly think we didn't account for that already? Your contract was severed the second your weasel friend killed our radio connection. Oh wait — no — let me see," he turned a page in his books. "Ha, actually it was when you dropped Doctor Bortel unconscious body into a dark tunnel." The notebook clicked shut. Hank's arms folded together and he stared Kimberly down.

Shego stretched her arms behind her head and leaned back, knee almost bashing the table as it lifted over her outstretched leg.

"Oh — so — so I'm good then?" Kimberly stuttered. "We don't need to have this conversation?"

"No, we really don't — " Hank fished his pencil back, repeatedly tapping graphite against his knuckle and eraser against his palm. " — so please leave."

Shego coughed and both heads briefly flicked towards her but she said nothing.

"Correct me if I'm wrong — but you're not even giving the battlesuit to us, correct?" Hank asked, flipping to a different page in his notebook. " _That_ could potentially justify some of the wasted finances — "

"I gave it to Ron."

" — okay, so yeah, please leave."

The pencil rapped against the table as Hank tried to scare Kimberly off with his tough guy eyes, but the effect didn't really land on her.

"So this is it?" Kimberly finally asked.

Shego stifled a giggle.

"Yes, why? You want some fanfare?" Hank growled. "Listen to some triumphant music on the way home — that should do it."

Kimberly frowned and bowed her head. "Okay. Well — " she locked eyes with Shego and suppressed ten different feelings at once. " — I'd say it was fun while it lasted — "

"You don't have to be disingenuous, it's not that kind of field," Hank noted from far off. Shego's eyebrows flashed up as if challenging her.

" — well — okay, yeah. But — you guys helped me get back on my feet so thanks."

"Christ kid," Hank readjusted his tie. "And they call _me_ corporate."

Kimberly bit her tongue and stepped back, sucking in a deep breath before swiveling away from them and starting the long walk to get her out the door.

"Oh, just so you know Kimmie," Shego hollered, heels hooking onto the edge of the table, back bending inwards and twisting her body upwards. "The Buffoon's next on our hitlist if you wanna give him a heads up."

Kimberly froze, a throbbing high in her cheeks pulling taut as she narrowed her eyes. "That's a bad call. Strategically of course."

"Oh?" Shego's torso thrust above her her catlike stretch.

"Ron's — " she bit her lip and though she didn't necessarily believe it, she needed something. " — moldable. Not as much as me obviously," a hollow laugh. "But if you're looking for a new tool to rig elections and kill international officers...of course I will stop you if you try anything on him — " She let her face just peek past her bob-cut. " — if you want to chance it though, you're going to want to topple things from up high, then work your way back down."

"So kill Master Sensei?" Shego dropped her feet down to the floor.

"Guy's a nobody. He has no global swing," Hank snipped. "You need to work on your bluff — "

"Oh?" Kimberly stepped backwards and turned around. "He's the one who lead me to Jefferson. He pretended to be Ron and um — " She remembered her tearful plea to the sapphire phantasm, one that culminated in her assault and trauma. She was violated and limped away with a broken arm. " — Sensei's the one issuing commands to the top of your hit list."

"Interesting," the wrinkles around Shego's eyes showed. "But isn't the old guy already dying?"

"I don't know how long he has but it sounds like he's using his last days to pull out all the stops. I mean — you'd be impressed with how messed up his tactics are now. And he's dying so what does he have to lose?"

Shego and Hank exchanged a look.

Hank threw an elbow to the back of his chair. "Thanks for the tip, Possible."

"No problemo."

* * *

The moment Kimberly had exited the infamous bar, two hands cloaked in shadow slipped onto the shoulderpads to Shego's blazer from behind. Their claw-like grip lived at the edge of her peripherals but she didn't dare look up. Instead her eyes winced and for the first time in a while, she felt a touch of sadness.

"You know those are misdirection tactics; Stoppable is not our target, and as long as Kimberly Possible breathes, we fight for her will."

Big "Big" Daddy Brotherson, a visionary with a lesser focus on silly games. An unknown entity who took command of Big Daddy's gang mere months ago, and had very recently began to slink out of the shadows to initiate direct contact with his Number One and Number Two.

"Yeah, I know," Shego rasped. "But Princess punched out; she already proved she can't do what you want her to. She didn't even kill Will Du on purpose; I'd rather move on. The Stoppable lead is rock solid. He's untrained, all-powerful, and — "

 **Bermuda Triangle: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 26, 2007: 10:26PM**

The scary talons dug deeper into the blazer and massaged her shoulders, her spine crinkling back into each vertebrae, and her hands slumped over her knee pathetically.

"You're misdirecting too. Stop. Focus. Eyes on the prize. We aren't even close to finishing here."

Shego looked over to Hank; neither of them had a clue who this mysterious crime lord was. But perhaps if she could catch even a twitch in Hank's eye, or a sparkle to his pupil, she could figure out who this man was and why he wanted Kimberly Possible so badly.

But no — Hank's eyes were closed in the face of the figure. Freakin' coward.

Shego sighed and closed her own eyes, giving herself a moment to readjust her posture to something less demeaning.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to kill Ron Stoppable — that's all."

* * *

Technically, he was trespassing being on cemetery grounds this late but Ron hadn't quite found his closure yet.

It was just a little stone in the ground engraved with Rufus' name, and in the dark of the night it was very difficult to find. But after hours of wandering, Ron found it and stood before it for some time; his thoughts started with some reflection on Rufus but they kept drifting away into thoughts about Kimberly, this girl he thought loved him — who said she loved him.

But she didn't — did she? She must have hated him. Or maybe he hated her — no that wasn't right. He loved Kimberly. That was all he had left.

"Stoppable-san, what are you doing?"

 **Pine Hill Cemetery: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 26, 2007: 11:03PM**

Ron slowly turned to face this ever present ninja that wouldn't quite give him a break — his pale hand clenched the strap to his duffle bag tighter. "Hoping I can get through all five stages of grief tonight."

"That's a big ask." Yori stepped closer, small trails of moonlight crossing her face.

"Yeah, well — I want to get back to work tomorrow, get it outta my head."

"And what does work mean to you right now?"

Ron's head pounded as he bowed his head in deep thought. "My Bueno Nacho store is kaput and I'm on Winter Break from school. I want to go back to doing what me and Kim always did. I'm sure Wade would be down to jump back into it."

Yori stayed silent, but her eyes began to flare blue and he felt Sensei's watchful gaze stab injections of guilt into him from all over, prickling at his his skin as if it were subzero weather.

"I know it's not what you want me to do but — it's the right thing. If I do the right thing — I can inspire Kim to come back."

The wind picked up and flurries crossed between them, but the blue light from her eyes was still visible past the flashes of white.

"Kim—Kimberly's hurting. Bad. I'm not — it's not the right thing to do, Yori."

"Your friend feels guilt because she knows what she has done is wrong," Yori said, the crackling echoes of Sensei's deep voice underlining her own. "She seeks reconciliation but she won't find it, and soon she will return back to her old ways."

"Her old ways are what I want to bring her back to — "

" — that's history; you know what she wants."

He remembered her wrists; of everything that had happened since this all began in July — that had threw him the most. For Kim to be so reckless, to put so little care into her own self — into her own life — or maybe that made sense? Maybe that was always the big picture and he just didn't see it. Maybe he was so used to her that his eyes just glazed over under her beaming grin.

"She wants to die, Yori."

"So help her then; take her life." Yori looked away and for a moment, her true voice peeked through Sensei's inflections. "It's the only thing that can make her happy now."

Ron bit his lip. "Just because she wants to die doesn't mean she should — she needs help. I'm going to help her Yori, I don't care what you — "

Hands lashed out from the powder white and grappled his jacket. He almost slipped on the ice, and when his head twisted back up to look at Yori he saw her eyes flared more than ever. The blue fire almost made a visor for her. He dropped the duffel bag and tried to wrench her away, but she grabbed his arm and held it down.

" _This isn't about you, Stoppable-san_ ," Sensei instructed. " _Nor is it about Possible-chan. This is about —_ "

" — the Greater Good, I know," Ron slapped Yori's wrists away and stepped back.

" _Don't you dare mock me boy_ ," Yori's eyes narrowed, and as the flares pulled inwards and away from her cheek, Ron thought he saw an icy tear traveling down her face.

"Sensei, this is super messed up. I don't feel comfortable doing this with you anymore."

" _Very well. Yori, you know what to do then_."

The fire flickered away into nothingness and Yori quickly crumpled, hacking a lung into her closed fist before getting back up to face Ron. Though before, she had eyes like tree bark, they now reflected something akin to the deep ocean. "Stoppable-san — "

"Just Ron. I don't want to be the Great Blue anymore, I can't — I can't do this."

Yori's lips pressed together. "I am sorry it has to be like this. Truly."

"You don't have to do what he says."

"I don't, you're right — " Yori folded an elbow to her knee, hand splayed out lazily as she looked towards the horizon. " — but I trust his judgment more than my own."

"So you're going to try to kill Kim then?" Ron's voice quaked.

"Ron," the word sounded so strained coming from her mouth in this attempt to be real. "You do understand we are in an arms' race, right?"

"What?"

"It's why Kimberly targeted Jack Hench. Why she attacked Global Justice."

"Yeah, they're bad dudes — I guess."

"No — if she wanted bad dudes, there are far worse. Shego for instance. Drakken. Big Daddy. But her targets are powerful people too old for guidance. Who do you think she is targeting next?"

Ron's eyes widened.

"Kim would never — "

"Think Ron. Powerful people. Too old to change. People with influence."

"God, no."

He remembered how soft Kimberly's lips were, how open her body had been, and how she still shrunk away from his intimacy, how she wasn't able to look him in the eye, how some twinge of guilt rocketed up her arms and told her to get defensive.

It made sense.

What Yori said made sense.

Kimberly would kill Sensei. Because Sensei wasn't right in the head anymore. There was a scared part within Ron that secretly longed for her to do him in. Especially after what he had done to Yori.

"Yori, you aren't just trying to manipulate me are you? Can you please be honest?"

She nodded gently. "I am not lying. I am here, telling you what is true. If you want to take action — do so. If you want to lay down arms — then give us anything you have and never use your powers again. I am sorry to say this to you but — "

A horrible scar spurt from her jawline, trailing up into her eyes, digging into the flesh and Yori screamed, the blue fire returning to the eye as the left side of her face twitched with the fluidity of a jellyfish, cheek dragging her mouth along until she cracked a horrible smirk.

" _Do the right thing, Stoppable-san. Whatever that means to you._ "

Ron looked over to the duffel bag and after some hesitation, lifted it into the air and dropped it at Yori's feet. "Kimberly's battlesuit is in there; it can absorb the Mystical Monkey Power and control it. She gifted it to me because she wanted me to be protected but — "

" _You're doing the right thing._ "

Ron got back to his feet and dug his hands into his pockets. "Alright, but if you can afford to not kill her — "

Another hurricane of snow and when it dissipated, Yori was gone. The bag had been torn up and began to sag under the weight of melting snow. One quick look into the bag told him that Sensei's vessel took what he needed.

Ron looked back to Rufus' grave and a brief pull of happiness came to him. Rufus had lived a long fulfilling life with him and Kim. Heck, he was probably the happiest naked mole rat to ever live. But that story was over and it was time to move on. It was —

Ron somehow managed to keep his voice alive with warmth.

"Time to start over."


	22. Anything is Possible

"Honey, you forgot to turn the coffee maker on."

"Oh shoot. Sorry Sugarplum."

"It's alright, just be — oh my God. Jim."

 **Possible Residence: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 5:05AM**

Ann nearly dropped her empty coffee mug to the floor.

"Ann — is everything — "

Despite her wide eyed surprise, she stayed deathly silent and raised a finger to Jim's lips. He swallowed his words and followed her gaze, reacting the same way as his wife.

Their daughter had come home.

Sound asleep on the couch, blanket lazily draped over her slumbering form, Kimberly looked remarkably peaceful all things considered.

"Can you — "

Jim grabbed his wife's hand, rough fingers intertwining with hers. "I'll call work right away. We have the flu?"

"Just tell them the truth, I think they'll understand.."

Jim kissed his wife on the cheek before scooping up the landline and dragging it as far away from the kitchen as humanly possible. Meanwhile Ann slid onto the couch besides her daughter, taking care not to wake her. As her warm hand wrapped around Kim's, she thought she saw the hint of a smile flicker across her face before returning to its neutral.

* * *

"Morning Kimmie. You must have been tired."

"Huh — what — what time is it?"

"It's — "

 **Possible Residence: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 1:00PM**

Kimberly cringed, back stinging from bad posture. She slid up against the pillow and looked into her mother's sparkling blue eyes. "Shoot — I — sorry — I wanted to spend more time — I missed you Mom."

Thin arms wrapped around her back and pulled her in, bearing a love the girl didn't think she deserved.

"It's okay, sweetie," Ann choked. "We thought we lost you."

Kimberly tried to smash the tears away with her eyelids. "I thought I did too."

Ann had noticed the bandaged wrists almost immediately and while they were overt and deadly, it wasn't the moment yet. Though she hadn't removed her gentle grip from them fast enough and there was a brief exchange of eye contact that ended in Kimberly pulling away, sinking deep into the pillow.

"I'm sorry," Kimberly pulled the blanket past her arms so they could remain hidden. "I'm so sorry."

"You've done nothing wrong, Kimmie-cub," Jim reached over his daughter and planted a bowl of cereal neatly in her lap, bits of grain floating in the perfect amount of almond milk. "Although that Team Impossible thing was a bit of a scare."

"Dad!" Kimberly chirped, the blanket and cereal enough of an excuse to not lift her arms for a hug. "I'm sorry I had to put you through that — through any of it."

"Oh, we're not bitter," Jim squeezed onto the couch and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "We're happy you're comfortable being back here."

She looked at her parents and shrunk at the sight. Her lips mouthed a confession but the words didn't quite come out.

I'm a killer, Dad. Mom, I killed someone. I didn't mean to but — I couldn't save him. I know that's not enough, doesn't count for anything but —

Mommy, Daddy.

I can't do the impossible. I hit my limit. Help me.

Please. Can't you see what happened to me?

"Can I stay with you?" was all Kimberly had the stomach to say.

"Honey of course, your bedroom's been waiting for you all this time." Though the wrists were a bit of a faux-pas, she still grabbed her daughter's hand and felt the dry, scaly skin that was so different from what she remembered.

Knock knock.

Goosebumps jabbed at each vertebrae as if they were dancing fingers plowing down a piano. Kimberly nervously jerked like a nervous snake. "You didn't invite a bunch of people over did you?"

"No, we know better, James can you — "

" — of course."

Her parents nervously exchanged glances before parting. When Ann turned back to Kimberly, the girl had already splattered almond milk across her chin while eating. They giggled and Ann held a tissue up for Kimberly to wipe the gook off.

Jim opened the door and a familiar female voice spoke to him in warm tones, though too distant to quite transcribe. But she knew who it was.

Ann froze as her daughter's eyes narrowed, a dark glint briefly showing before giving way to the brilliant emerald. But this time, the green was glazed over by some other focus.

"Kimmie?"

Kimberly frowned and abruptly rose to her feet to see Yori following her father into the living room. Neither girl looked directly to the other.

Yori was in her gi as usual, but there was something to be said about the heavy duty black gloves she had on. When her hand reached up to wave, she briefly saw the hem of the glove pull past her wrist and there was an alien-like white fabric wrapped around her arm. Maybe some form of under-armor, although the white was too familiar for her to pass it off as coincidence.

But she had to hope against hope that Ron didn't do what had already jumped to her mind.

"Possible-chan," Yori bowed politely. Again, no eye contact.

"This is a bad time for me," Kimberly sneered. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

"No. It has to be right now, I am sorry."

Kimberly looked to her parents, and it hurt to lie to them with her eyes, to reassure them that this was going to be okay.

* * *

In all the hubbub of the past few months, Kimberly had completely forgotten about the Lowardian Invasion. Her home and many others had been destroyed, and it wasn't until she walked into her bedroom that she remembered. It was like walking through a time portal, and though she hesitated to call it delusion, that wasn't reality.

Over the summer, her bedroom was barren. Just a bed and desk. Plain colors, no panache. Now, she was in the middle of a full restoration of what was.

 **Kim's Bedroom: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 1:14PM**

"You alright?" Yori asked softly.

Kimberly looked over her shoulder and wiped a tear from her eye. "Yeah, it's just I literally just came back home and — I don't know, emotions?"

"Mm," Yori nodded and strutted over to the window.

Kimberly tried catching Yori's eyes to offer her a seat on her bed. Maybe if they were sitting, it wouldn't be so tense. But the girl stayed turned away so Kimberly took the seat in her place.

There was such a bizarre imbalance of power, while Yori was decked out and ready for combat, Kimberly was wearing just a pastel purple top and striped pajama pants. No socks, stretchy sleeves.

"I am sorry about your friend"

Kimberly's brow furrowed. "Pardon my bluntness, but I get the feeling that you aren't here to send me your thoughts and prayers.

Yori raised an eyebrow before sliding besides Kimberly who quickly slipped several inches away, eyes wary and focused.

"Sensei's gone mad," Yori said after some time passed. "He wants Stoppable-san to kill you."

Though the exact opposite of what Ron had promised her, she believed this to be the truth without any hesitation. "Geez. Tough crowd, huh?"

"Oh, it's no laughing matter, Possible-chan" Yori clutched a hand to her chest underneath the gi. "Your actions have infuriated him to no end; you have no idea what wrath you have awakened."

There was a quick glint of silver that Kimberly wasn't supposed to see ruffling through the black robe.

"Well, Ron would never do that." Kimberly pretended she didn't see the knife and drew her knees to her chin. "I just saw him."

"Ah, and how was Stoppable-san?" Yori asked with an overlong _Aaaah_ and no uptone to indicate it was even a question.

When Yori spoke — it was soft sounds prickling at vowels, hesitation to her own power and ambition, intentional yet still drawn out. Kimberly didn't know the girl that well but these were not her speech patterns.

"Uh — he's holding up, it went better than I thought honestly. Yori," Kimberly said suddenly, trying to stow away her paranoia. "Did I hurt him?"

Yori looked down and her narrow shoulders sloped up before sliding back down. "Perhaps. Mm. No. At first, yes. But now — this is his own doing — and yours I see."

Kimberly clapped a clammy hand over the bandaged wrists. "Yeah — we've all been pretty self-destructive."

"I don't know — I've been doing great myself." Yori crawled across the bed, knees sliding against Kimberly's waist, gloved hands falling to her shoulders, massaging them. Instinctively, Kimberly's head threw back, auburn hair flopping back. Her throat stretched wide, elongated and thin.

"Why are you doing this?" Kimberly nearly moaned.

"You seem tense, just don't be weird about it," Yori grumbled.

Kimberly nodded and felt the right hand leave her shoulder and what should have been a puzzle of an assassination quickly became the equivalent of fitting the square block into the square hole.

Kimberly's left hand flung up and grabbed the silver knife, the tip just prickling her exposed neck, and Kimberly grinned wide. "You're kidding me with this right?"

Yori remained silent as Kimberly managed to wrench the knife free, jabbing it into the bedpost. She balanced one foot against the bed frame, the other kicked up onto the banister, and she stared the girl down before leaping into the air to kick her in the skull.

Yori giggled in a way that was a little unbecoming and a blast of blue energy surged from her fingers, nailing Kimberly in the chest and knocking her into the air. She barely had any time to process this newfound power of Yori's as her body spiralled through the air, forehead smashing into the bedpost as she flew past it. An ugly gash ran above her eyebrows, crimson dripping down, her stomach punctured by the brunt of her desk, abdomen folding around her old computer, notepads and other trinkets scattering to the floor as she tried to steady herself on her desk.

Kimberly jumped down to the floor and looked up at Yori who towered over her from the bed.

"And since when do you have Mystical Monkey Power?!" Kimberly shouted.

"Oh," Yori flipped her hair back into place with one flick of the chin. " _It's not quite hers_ ," Sensei's voice spoke as the jagged scar crossed her cheeks, striking her at the corner of the eye. Blue light filled her eye, and she smiled the same way the Phantom Ron did.

* * *

Despite the gumption that brought him to calling Wade up for a quick mission, all was quiet on the western front. Nary a soul needed any Ronshine in any capacity — all of the usual suspects were in jail. Drakken was MIA and Shego was — somewhere. She was part of Big Daddy's operations but _he_ was worldwide. Yes, he could drive over to the Bermuda Triangle in Denver and stomp around until bad guys turned up — but that wasn't very effective vigilantism.

Therefore all Ron could do was wait. But he waited! Patiently at that.

 **Middleton Mall: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 1:14PM**

He even went to the mall so he could stay on his feet and not worry about wasting time doing anything silly. He was on his feet, dressed in his old mission gear, and ready to go at the drop of a hat. Come to think of it, this was the perfect time to snag up a belt at long last.

But of course, those are the kinds of thoughts that punctuate the end of a journey rather than the beginning, because what quickly followed was a big boom.

It was loud and booming, the reverberations almost too deep to understand. He felt the torrent of wind, the warmth of the light, and while he could not see what was coming from behind, he knew what to do. He twisted into his right leg, chest falling low, a shattered tile just skimming his sweater. He short-hopped and flipped in the air, cowlick brushing against another tile and in his brief descent, he spotted the entire onslaught of tiles that had been blown his way.

He landed with both feet planted, knees bent just inwards enough for him to still feel loose without losing any resilience, and his body twirled and pivoted, pirhouetting through the storm of ceramic that headed his way.

One bad step and he saw the deathly sharp corner of a tile whirl towards his peepers, ready to impale him in the forehead, but just as it approached him it left him, his foot kicking his legs into a perfect split, sneaker crumbling the tile to dust.

Foot stretched higher in the air than it ever had been, it crashed back down like a gavel and he flew back into the air, arms and legs erratically swiping all around him, any tile that came his way shattering at the touch.

When it was over and the dust had settled, Ron wiped his forehead and stepped forward. It was the green light that gave her away, emerald flame flickering through the smog.

"You know there's no Bueno Nacho to destroy here!" Ron called out with hands on his hips. "So you should do your shenanigans elsewhere!"

"Oh, uh huh — " Shego made it a point to laugh for a little too long. " — I mean you're practically Bueno Nacho himself so it ain't no problem for me."

Ron scratched his chin. "I don't know if I should be touched by that or — "

Another boom and this time Ron heard the screams. The energy that surged from Shego's hands were not just her usual blasts — they were like pent up tornadoes ripping through their atmosphere. This time, everything went up. Tables, chairs, storefronts, mannequins, the entire second floor of the mall even — all of it torn from its roots and blasted towards Ron in a white blur.

So much destruction in a mere second — he never knew Shego could do such things. So maybe it was time for he himself to push the envelope.

Behind him were hundreds of shoppers, many of them young, none of them deserving of such a fate, so he raised his left hand to the air and a blue sphere spawned from it. His right arm stretched behind him and snapped. Closing his eyes, he imagined a far off place that was already polluted and no good — Camp Wannaweep — and at this recollection, a blue sphere materialized over the lake.

It was like hail falling through his gullet but he held strong as the debris crashed into his portal, the force of impact striking his innards as the blast was warped far across the country. When the onslaught ended, Ron's face was drained of color and he nearly flopped down to the floor like a moldy banana peel. But he kept his front knee bent at a right angle, and his face strong with defiance.

"Ooh, Monkey Boy finally ready to use his powers again?"

"Oh, anything for you." His eyes narrowed. "Especially you."

* * *

Kimberly clambered down from her desk, hand clutched over her midriff. "We really don't have to do this."

" _If she was here, she would agree_ ," Sensei tittered, small feet dropping down to the floor. They stared at each other for some time. " _Do you understand what you've done?"_

 **Possible Residence: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 1:18PM**

"Kinda," Kimberly shrugged. "But I don't see what the big deal is."

Yori's eyebrows briefly shot up. " _This is our legacy._ "

"'Kay."

" _Ooh!_ " Sensei grunted. " _I knew you gave villains lip, but it does hurt to witness it firsthand._ "

Yori's body threw itself at Kimberly, legs and arms twirling in a brilliant onslaught of punches and kicks that though improvised felt so polished. Kimberly fended it off, though it still pained her unprotected arms to resist.

Yori's heel propped against the desk and dropped her hands to the floor, somersaulting off the wood and kicking Kimberly right in the chin. Blood immediately spilled from the black gaps in her smile.

Yori sprang back up and twisted under a desperate lunge from the teen hero and threw her legs into the air, twirling them like a windmill. One kick, two kick, and stick the landing. Yori threw her hair behind her shoulders and smirked.

Kimberly moved in for her own punch, but jumped back as a blue barrier threw up around her. Instinct kicked in as flashbacks of her fight with Will Du surged through her brain, and she spun around and curved her back perfectly along the sphere.

Wait, how did Yori throw up the battle suit's shield?

Oh Ron.

Another sphere appeared around Kimberly, pinning her against the innermost layer of barrier. It briefly widened before shrinking back down, slamming into Kimberly's body like a truck and pressing her like a butterfly. Both shields faded and Kimberly's limp body slunk towards the ground. Something caught on her hand, and her neck cracked from whiplash, the back of her head striking the floor nevertheless.

Blurry vision made it hard to see, but it looked like Yori was holding her up.

"Did Ron give you the battle suit?" Kimberly coughed.

" _I didn't even have to ask for it,_ " Sensei spat.

Kimberly rolled her eyes. "Great."

Yori smirked and tossed Kimberly into the air like a professional dancer might, though the allusion was ruined when Yori's leg clotheslined Kimberly on the way down.

Doubled over, spitting out blood, Kimberly looked up at Yori. "Please, you don't have to — "

A fist cleaved into Kimberly's cheek; but Yori was a yard away and unless she had Inspector Gadget arms, it was not possible that it was Yori's hand. But no one else was in the room?

Boom. Crack.

Two more punches, each to the face, each as painfully precise, and Kimberly finally noticed the flicker of Yori's head that swung with the throw of each punch.

" _Thought I'd show you how to really tap into these powers_ ," Sensei laughed when Kimberly finally picked up on his little magic trick. She clenched her jaw and as the teeth ground together, two invisible hands smacked Kimberly's head like a vice. A fast and hard nod from Sensei and Kimberly's head was throttled backwards against the desk as her spine crunched under her.

" _But I guess there won't be much time for showboating, hm_?" Sensei cackled, bending over Kimberly's fallen form, hair falling past the ears. They reached up and tucked the bangs behind the ears and laughed again.

The infamous Kimberly Possible defeated in mere seconds, a footnote of history.

"Don't worry, I got some moves left," Kimberly managed to groan and her legs lifted into the air, scooping Yori up by the armpits and successfully flipping her against the plaster wall behind the desk. The phantom hands released Kimberly's head in this hectic moment and she twisted away, stepping far away from the desk.

Yori fell on her head and quickly sprung back up. Behind her was an elaborate web of cracks in the wall. Kimberly caught the faintest hint of blue power retracting back into Yori from all over.

Kimberly smirked and dashed back to the desk, launching herself into a flying spin kick, but just as her foot came crashing down, another barrier flung up and stopped her mid-descent.

The shield expanded far, pushing through the cracks in the wall and blowing a hole in the plaster. A bone-chilling breeze swept in and Kimberly giggled as she pressed her heel against the barrier for balance.

" _Oh geez,_ " Sensei groaned, head turned past the shoulder to briefly survey the damages.

Kimberly flipped backwards, fortunate enough to land on her two feet, eyes level with Yori's knees, and grabbed the back of her computer chair. Far too unstable for real combat, it was desperation that gave Kimberly's swing power and when the cushioned plastic slammed the barrier, the shield rolled backwards like a golf ball might.

Shockwaves of power thundered from the barrier, the noise akin to Quasimodo going at it, and Kimberly was thrown backwards against the bed, several scathing burn marks wracking her body. But when her head tilted past her chest, sight just skimming over the crimson bleeding through her thin shirt, she could see that she at least successfully knocked Yori out of her bedroom.

Just as she got back to her feet, the door swung open and her father was on the other side.

"Kimmie — why did your friend just get blown out of our house and collapse on our front lawn — " he froze and noticed the gaping hole in the wall and tried to maintain his composure.

Kimberly bit her lip. "It's a whole thing."

* * *

Kimberly had really thrown a wrench into Ron's life this year but there was one thing he could be grateful for: she had trained him to take on Shego. The first time, the training didn't quite come through and he tremendously lost. The second time, he backed out of fighting her and got trounced.

But this time, he was a new Ron. A self-motivated boy ready to take on the world however that job needed to be handled.

In this case, it started with a blind charge. Perhaps not Ron at his most strategic, but it was in actuality a very fun strategy. It felt good until Shego gripped him by the wrists and flopped him into the air.

As Ron swung over Shego, his fists lashed out and he swung down at her from above in three barbaric strikes that against a weaker opponent, might have prevailed. But blue sparks sputtered out in the face of green sparks and Ron frowned because that was a lot of build up for nothing.

"You know she kissed me, right?" Shego cackled as Ron flopped against the ground.

He wiped the spittle from his cheeks and stuttered, "What?"

"Mhhhhm, Princess was head over heels for me," Shego's eyes narrowed, hand lazily folded against her wide hips. "We kissed our first night together in Paris."

"Aw geez," Ron frowned. "So you were together, then?"

"Ha, no. I mean, Kimmie thought we were. Oh, she was so desperate to be wanted — to be loved — guess ya missed the boat on that one, Sidekick."

Ron frowned. The farthest him and Kimberly ever went was the night before this — her bare skin clambering over his, a black hole of feeling in her eyes, and he looked away. Rightfully so. That wasn't what she needed in that moment and he wished that he could just understand.

"Gosh, no wonder she dumped you," Shego cackled. "I wish Doc was here so he could use one of his stupid weather generator things to give you your own personal raincloud."

Ron growled and jumped back in, flipping in the air and swiping hooks at Shego, hands slamming into her elbows. But what looked like punches fell into a grab and hesqueezed Shego's joints until he felt the muscles pushing against his fingers. Her hands flared up with plasma but he was already ahead of that routine and kicked her right in the jaw. Blood trickled from her mouth and the plasma faded, gloved hands retracting to her face to wipe off the thin crimson trail.

"Mm, I'm noticing a little hesitation," Shego rubbed her jaw, tongue flickering at her teeth, licking the red from the white. "You worried about killing me or something? Because methinks you at full powerful ain't enough for that."

Ron ran at her again, but this time Shego defended herself and lazily slapped away each of his blows. "If I can be real with ya, Buffoon, I'm down to clown if you are — but if this is the best you got — ?" Her plasma flared dangerously and Ron's heart skipped a beat.

"Take your best shot," he finally said.

"Famous last words," Shego lobbed the plasma bolts Ron's way and he twirled around them, miraculously balancing himself on one heel as he did so. But as the onslaught picked up speed, so did the rapidity of close calls.

Not sure if this would even work, Ron threw his lifted foot over his head and flung it back down directly on top of a plasma bolt. A blue wave erupted from his sneaker, balancing on the bolt in the shape of a disc. He smirked and raised his next foot up, repeating the same maneuver and Shego's jaw almost dislodged itself and fell to the floor as Ron ran through the air, using her bolts as literal stepping stones.

She aimed higher and Ron followed, climbing with the arc of her blasts as if they were a staircase and finally, once directly above target, he threw himself into a dropkick. Shego tried to blast him away but when his boots struck her palms, the blue discs appeared and burst the plasma bolts, the two of them flying yards apart from each other.

"Whoa — you okay?!" Ron shouted through the whipped up dust. "I didn't mean to — "

Two bolts flew out from the dust cloud and Ron just managed to dodge them — though one did strike his belt and his cargo pants came plummeting down.

"Ah, you know what — that's not cool!"

* * *

"Yori — I really don't want to fight you. Please hear me out."

In a matter of seconds, Kimberly had sprang down the stairs, launching her legs into a baggy pair of snow pants, feet almost falling into the boots as she leaped off the staircase. She kicked open the door and snagged the nearest winter coat off the coat hanger.

" _You can riot all you want, but Yori won't respond. It's a little sacrifice she made for me,_ " Sensei croaked. " _If you wanted to negotiate, you should have done so months ago._ "

"Well then hear me," Kimberly tried to to remember the things that made her strong: Ron, her parents, Wade, Monique, Shego?, cheer, and the resilience that came from her mouth reflected all that. "I am not a bad guy. I have made some mistakes and I accept that I did some people wrong — but this is not the solution."

" _Funny,_ " Sensei chuckled. " _I never said you were a bad guy."_

Yori's wrist flicked at the air lazily and the feet of snow that pooled up to Kimberly's ankles flung itself into the air. Dead grass and dried mud lingered under her boots.

" _Do you understand that the most powerful weapon in the world is in love with you?_ "

Kimberly opened her mouth to say something but instinctually threw an elbow over her face as a piercing gust slammed into her body, jets of air like icicles. She tried stepping forward but the lifted snow whirled around her like a hurricane, flakes jettisoning across her face, small scratches tearing into dry skin and oozing blood.

" _But you don't love him back — and that's fine. What is there to love when you are so self-obsessed? So deluded to think that only your journey matters?_ "

The blizzard had pounded her so hard that when it shot back into the air, her bones were nearly frozen. It hurt to move, it hurt to do anything. Any motion felt like it could snap her entirety. She managed to just lift her foot off the ground, like easing on the gas pedal.

But then the snow came cascading back down in the form of ice cold rapids, freezing her in place. Water sloshed into her from all over, jacket and boots be damned, and her heartbeat began to slow, hard lines creasing her forehead, lips turning blue.

Yori approached Kimberly, seemingly unaffected by the spraying waters and gently brushed a hand under the girl's pale chin.

" _So it is up to me now — up to me to kill you — so that he can loosen his putrid mortal ties — and give into his destiny._ "

"Huh — " Kimberly cocked her head to the side. "Shego's kind of doing the same thing with me I guess, you two should talk."

" _Oh, I was thinking of asking her out for coffee_ ," Yori stepped closer and her lips came into Kimberly's and the girl could feel the final sparks of life leaving her. But despite the numbness, Kimberly felt a bizarre wave of feeling from those lips and recognized them to have the same gentleness and hesitance of Ron's and while surely this was a ploy to stab her in the heart before death, it only served to motivate her.

It pained her arm to do so, her desperate swing threatening amputation, but Kimberly reached out and grabbed Yori's waist. Before Sensei could comprehend what Kimberly was doing, the blue barrier flung up around the two of them, waterfall rolling off the edges of the sphere.

" _What? That's impossible!_ "

Kimberly —

…

Joints snapping against ice, she ripped off the stomach to her jacket and pajama top, and bared her midriff once more. Freezing flurries hit her stomach like a gut punch — but refreshing, kind of like a slap from a best friend — she breathed clean air and opened her eyes wide.

Her name was Kim, not Kimberly, and when people told her something was _impossible_ she would lean it, flash her canines, and say, "No. But reeeeeeeeal close."

* * *

Ron's fists carried him across the mall floor, each swing thoughtless yet effective. Shego kept trying to slide away and jump back into her business-as-usual style, but Ron hit too fast and hard for her to exit the defensive.

With each punch there was a tearing sound that left a burn across his knuckles — though he didn't understand it at all. It was after one particularly enraged punch that Ron's body briefly crumpled from exhaustion. He rubbed his wrist and looked over to Shego whose sleek black suit had been smeared with kicked up dust.

"Alright Sidekick," Shego's chuckle wasn't as menacing as she hoped. "It's time for you to — whoa. What are those?"

Ron didn't have to look though he was as clueless as her; blue streaks like brush strokes littered the air in the path of Ron's punches. He looked up at her and whispered, "Booyah."

The streaks dislodged themselves from the empty space and spun at Shego. Before Shego could collect herself, she was back on the defensive, though blood splashed from her forearm as the first streak slashed through her sleeve and cufflink. She growled and threw up her plasma and tried to ward off the blows but it just was not possible and though many of them were incinerated, many more struck her all over.

The knees, elbows, stomach, head, right across the eye and she screamed something terrifying. As her body fell back, Ron felt a twitch in his palm. He clenched the fist and though nothing was there, he could feel an ironed shirt bending in his grip, the weight of someone's chest balancing on him. He looked past the hand to see Shego floating in the air, clawing at the invisible hand that had gripped her.

It was like a fever dream, yet still he swung his foot up and five yards away, Shego's head jerked up with Ron's power and stumbled backwards. When she looked back at him, a horrible cut was oozing across her eye, a dark bruise almost hiding it.

"Oh geez, oh no, Shego, I'm sorry," Ron yelped. "I — I — I can heal you! Let me — "

"You're not sorry," Shego's voice was cold.

Though it hurt to admit it — she was right; he frowned.

"Princess was right about you," Shego's swollen cheek still managed to pull a smirk. "I'm very impressed, Newbie."

Shego's limp right hand fell behind her back, crackles of plasma splintering from her fingertips for a surprise attack when an invisible thumb pressed into the tendons of her wrist and the blast loosed itself on Shego's back.

Boom.

Her body soared into the air, yards above Ron, yet somehow within the span of a thought, he had warped up to her level and with no hesitation, his foot came down on her hard, spiking her back to the ground.

Blood was leaking from somewhere on the side of her head and things were getting hazy fast. Almost impossible to stand, she fired a beam of plasma through the ceiling of the mall and held it as long as she could.

Within four seconds, her powers dwindled and the beam phased away. She almost keeled over, panting and unable to hear whatever Ron was saying. Pangs of regret spilled through her mind but she knew that this was what she signed up for. If she really believed in the work, she wouldn't be upset.

Just live long enough so Kim can see this. Fight until you're visible, plant the seed, change the story.

Almost bending her own spine back into shape, Shego lumbered back to something resolute and stared Ron down. "Come and get me you stupid son of a bitch."

* * *

Kim darted at Yori before Sensei could retort to her classic Kim Possible / Impossible pun. Her hands clawed at Yori's wrist, reeling the girl's arm backwards and with another violating tap at the utility belt, a grapple line sprung from the battle suit's wrist and launched towards the Possible rooftop, the claw latching onto a storm drain.

Yori tried swiping at Kim but her body was quickly yanked into the air by the grapple, body careening into the girder. The girl fell back to the ground, hand wedged into her back as she stumbled back up, Sensei's magic painting a horrible grimace across her scared witless expression.

But Kim could still see Yori there and knew this wasn't futile.

"Hey, next time you try to murder someone," Kim snarked. "Maybe don't use their stuff against them."

Sensei growled like a canine and clenched Yori's fists.

There was a shifting in the air, power crippling the atmosphere, and the invisible fists came swinging. Far stronger than the last punches, they sent tremors in the air as they brushed past. Each surge of strength redirected the wind and it was easy to bob in and out with the sway of each punch.

Each miss was punctuated by a more desperate swing. She almost began to feel bad for the old man, but then she remembered the pain Yori must have been under — the pain she herself had been under, strung along like a puppet.

Kim's hands snapped out, fingers digging deep into the air, and she felt a crunch at the elbows, bones shifting from the sheer force she was resisting. Invisible hands fought to wrench away from hers but she would not let go, and though it hurt more, she reeled both arms in until her rear was pressed to her heels, hands lifted above her shoulders.

Deep breath.

Kim jumped, heels digging between the knuckles of the invisible hands, and before she slipped free, she heaved her body up until she was standing on what appeared to be nothing. Chest hollow, body sore, sweat beading, eyes closed.

She kept her arms taut and thanked the Big Guy Up in the Sky that she was a cheerleader, and fell into a stellar split, legs sliding past the knuckles and down the arms until they jammed into the elbows.

"Thanks for making your phantom limbs anatomically accurate."

She grimaced and twisted the fists back, body flopping forward like a dipping duck, face beet red from the killer strain on her own arms, but she persevered and emerged a double arm wrestling champion.

A crunch ended it, the arms twisted far past the limits of their joints. Yori's mouth opened wide and Sensei's scream ruptured the air. The blue light faded from her eye and her body momentarily sagged, before the life came back to her. Her neck almost cracked with the rapidity of her turn. Eyes narrowed, she brandished the knife once again.

"Yori?" Kim tried to steady herself. "We don't have to go down this route."

Yori shook her head and marched towards Kim.

"We're on the same side," Kim strained. "Please. I don't want to hurt anyone. You don't either."

Her brows briefly wrinkled together and then she was running. No more time to talk. Yori swung fast and with precision; well-rested and well-trained. Kim could keep dodging but she was quickly losing her footing, Yori closing the gap between them.

The final strike was a brief moment where it felt like everything had slowed down for them.

The cold sweat stuck on Kim's stomach reflected in the light, beams of white surrounding the ill-treated scar Bonnie planted on her. Dark with hints of crimson, huge and commanding, wedged between the light, Yori's eyes flickered down to the ugly thing as the knife swung to make that scar once again bleed.

Another crease between the eyebrows. A blink. Eye contact. Blink blink. Frown.

The scar was a symbol that someone once loved could still turn, that she herself, was hated. While likely planted by Shego as a textbook method of abuse, it was a real tactic. Because Yori couldn't keep looking at it and not feel the message.

For once she was thanking Shego.

Yori's arm plowed into Kim's stomach like a freight train, knife angling away at the last second, snagging the skin off of Kim's curves. She almost didn't feel the pain, too focused on Yori's writhing form falling onto hers.

The knife fell behind them and a shaking hand clawed at Kim's back, dragging her down. After some time, Yori regained her composure and looked back with a remarkably still expression. "Thank you," she said.

"Anytime," Kim responded, hand rubbing the girl's back. "I hope this isn't rude but I need to talk to Ron. Do you have any idea where he is?"

"You're not going to hurt him are you?"

Kim got up slowly. "With my luck? Probably inadvertently."

* * *

Of course she saw Shego's distress beacon.

Wade already helped her locate Ron through the tracking chip he planted in the boy. When Kim tried objecting to the ethics of the chip Wade could only shrug and say, "Look who's talking." before throwing the block back on her.

So when the brilliant emerald light pierced through the smoking husk of the mall, her heart skipped a beat.

"Do you think Ronald is okay in there, Kimmie-cub?" James asked over his shoulder.

Kim pulled her body back into the backseat, plugging the safety belt back in. "I think he's doing more than okay." Not like it made her feel any better.

As the Possible's car pulled up, Kim could immediately feel Ron's aura piercing through her chest. "Stay here," she said quickly. Before she kicked open the door, a gentle hand fell to her forearm and she looked up to her mother, who despite all the doom and gloom, was smiling.

"You can do this Kimmie. Whatever it is."

It wasn't hard to get into the mall; the walls had caved in near where Shego and Ron were dueling. Though she could see blue sparks flying above the rubble, she couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on until she reached the peak of the rock. She hiked a leg in front of her and gazed down at the horrible scene.

Shego couldn't even stand straight and a gash sliced through her right eye.

Ron's expressive eyes had become as still as actual sapphires, a solid blue filling both sockets. He effortlessly laid a beat-down on the mercenary, all of his moves familiar to her — and likely Shego — but the power that crackled through him threw it all off. His frame shuddered, body phasing in and out of reality, warping around the room.

Not even Will Du, freakin' straight As by-the-book Will Du, could hold onto a fragment of Mystical Monkey Power and stay alive.

And here was the boy Kim had been sworn to training, to protecting, knowing full well what the consequences might be if he was allowed off the leash.

"RON!" Kim screamed at the top of her lungs but it fell on deaf ears. Grimacing, she worked her way down the opposite side of the debris, immediately slipping out of panic and plummeting ten feet down, landing hard on her back. She managed to grab what looked to be a bent up guard rail and her body swung over the ground below.

When she did eventually make it down, Shego wasn't faring any better. Her emerald eyes briefly flickered to her before going back to Ron, and though the onslaught of Mystical Monkey Power on her person was ruthless, she was — smiling?

The back of Shego's head smashed into rock, bouncing the chin into her chest, before the body limply slid down another pile of debris, head uncomfortably crooked to her shoulder. Finally, it was quiet.

"RON! Stop!" Kim hollered from afar as the boy marched towards the woman.

Nothing. Cold shoulder, or maybe just completely absent. It didn't matter.

She ran as fast as she could and managed to catch up with Ron but when she grabbed his wrist and jerked on his arm, "Ron, you need to listen to me right now — " She lost her grip and fell back, " — shit, this isn't working."

Ron got closer and closer, blue light shining through the cracks between his fingers. He brought both fists above his head, as if heaving a hammer, and arched his body high.

Shego eyes darted back to Kim and she licked her lips.

Suddenly everything stopped moving, even the shimmering light.

Kim caught her breath. "Hello?" she called out.

Neither of her loved ones would budge.

Dead silence.

Kim wasn't normally inclined to talk to herself, but her thoughts poured from her mouth very suddenly.

"It's another set-up. Ron kills Shego, I lose both of them — lose everything — I finally — " she gulped. " — become a bad guy. But it starts with Ron — he loses everything. His sanity, his personality, his civilian status, gone, wiped away. Ron becomes a target. If I — ugh — when I go back to Big Daddy — or Global Justice — either way, I kill Sensei, probably Ron too. No one can train him anymore — it's over."

She crossed her arms and looked at Ron's face carefully. "No — no one could train Ron anyways. Sensei's halfway down to six feet under and Ron will never listen to me again."

She looked past her shoulder at Shego's bloody form. "This is what Shego wanted — it was really naive of me to think she'd go after Sensei first like I suggested — " Kim's eyes looked up at the blue light coming from Ron's hands that once again began to shift ever so slightly. " — I don't know if it's possible to save you, I'm sorry."

Her brow furrowed and she crouched down to Shego's eye level, though the statuesque woman obviously could not look back. "Do you even want me to save you? Or has this all been a game? Obviously it was — you had me around your finger and even now — " She looked at her feet. " — I am still under your spell because you got it in my head that I have to stop Ron. You staged it all perfectly."

Kim patted her knees and got back up, almost bumping into Ron, arms slowly swinging down, very gradually speeding back up to normalcy. "How does it feel Shego? You broke me, dropped me to the bottom of the glass, swished me around, and gulped me down until there was nothing left. I really hope what I'm about to do is what you wanted — "

Kim gently grabbed Ron's wrists, fingers tentatively curling around his malice.

" — because I hate to say it — but it _is_ the right thing to do."

Her hold on Ron tightened like a vice and things snapped back into action.

While Kim's grip wasn't nearly enough to hold Ron's force back, it bought her enough time to resist and catch his eyes.

He blinked rapidly, the still sapphires pulling away to ice blue pupils that warmed back to their old chocolate brown. "KP?" he stuttered.

His arms slipped past her, about to crack into Shego's skull when Kim's fist cleaved into Ron's cheek, the mystical energy rubber-banding back and knocking Ron across the plaza where he crashed into a dilapidated fountain.

He got up with a start and froze as Kim bent down, shielding Shego from his sight.

"Kim, get out of the way."

"No," she spat. "Ron, you're going to kill her."

"I know that."

She frowned.

"KP, do you have any idea how bad she is? Do you understand what she did to you? To us?"

"That doesn't mean she should die," Kim straightened up. "I thought you knew better and by the way — why on God's green earth did you give the battlesuit to Yori?!"

Ron flushed. "I — I — someone has to stop you Kim, and it's not me."

"It might as well have been — Sensei just tried to kill me, thank you very much."

Ron twitched. "Sensei just wants to protect — "

" — your Sensei assaulted me in New Hampshire," Kim wasn't sure why she was smiling. "He groped me, forced himself on me and broke my freakin' shoulder. Yeah. Yeah. That's right. I lied, I did get attacked by a wolf like I said but he didn't break my arm, no — I killed him — haha — " she jammed her fist into her mouth to cease the laughter. Deep breath. "It was Sensei. He's just as bad as Shego — he possessed Yori — "

Grasping at straws, Ron reached out for one. "I knew that."

"And you were okay with it?!"

The hypothetical straw slipped from Ron's grip. "Um. No. But — that's why I — that's why I walked away."

"Walked away?! Ron — look at her — look what you performed for your master — " Kim stepped aside and gestured wildly at Shego. "She's dying — are you going to do something?"

Utterly deflated, Ron pulled out his Kimmunicator and turned it on, briefly looking at Kim before returning to the device. "I'll call an ambulance."

"Good, go do that," Kim spun on her heel and dropped down to Shego, gently grabbing her limp hand. "Hey, talk to me. You alive?"

"Yeah," Shego's voice was a whisper despite the width of her wicked grin.

"Good," Kim squeezed the hand tightly. When she spoke, it sounded like someone far off even though the perpetrator was right there. "I hate you."

But the feeling didn't process in Shego's eyes. "Can you do me a favor?" she wheezed.

"No — we're done, Shego — "

Shego waved off Kim's anger. "No — Kimmie — shut up."

Kim's jaw retracted back into itself.

"I'm done," Shego said.

"...what?"

"Mm. But do you understand why I do what I do now?"

Though it pained her greatly to do so, Shego boosted herself up and leaned straight against the rubble. Kim gravitated to her presence, somehow bent below the dying woman. Shego pulled off a glove, shaking white hand sliding a bleeding finger very gently under Kim's chin.

"Shego — don't — "

"Sh."

Kim bit her lip. Why was she crying?

"You don't have to be like me, Kimmie — you can be anything. Just like — do the right thing and all that other corny shit. But remember this, okay? Remember why we do this."

"Don't talk like that. Ron's calling the ambulance, it'll all be fine."

"That's cute, I appreciate it, listen up — I'm only going to say this once — because — heheh — I can only say it once — " Shego rasped. "Go to Denver. Tell Perkins you want to meet Big "Big" Daddy. When you meet him, say I'm outta the picture — tell him Sheilah requested that you take my place."

Shego's legs caved around Kim and folded her in. Lips close together.

"You don't want to kiss me," Shego chuckled. "You know I'm bad for you."

Kim nodded. "You knew this was going to happen if you attacked Ron."

"Yeah, that was the hope," Shego's voice became harder and harder to hear.

"Why? I don't understand — " Kim choked. " — it's not — this isn't worth it. I'm not worth your life, Shego — I'm not — I can never do what you did. Please Shego, stay alive. You have to. For me. I can't do this fight without you."

"Puh-lease. You can do anything."

Kim's hair brushed against Shego's face as her tears rattled her entire body. When she came back to, Shego's eyes were much more vacant. "That's the thing — I can't do anything — I — "

No spark in the woman's dark eyes, no curl of the lip, nothing.

" — Shego?"


	23. Okay, So We're Doing This

"Is she — "

"Yeah."

"Kim…"

 **Middleton Mall: Middleton, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 1:45PM**

Kim's head was bowed below her straight-lined shoulders. Had been for some time now.

There was a pit in Ron's stomach that was supposed to feel guilt and while it was still strong enough to avert his eyes from Shego's ragged corpse, he felt no sympathy for the woman. She tried to kill him and many more. Abused his best friend.

Good. Stay dead.

If anything, he felt sad that it was an accident. It wasn't his intention to end her, it was more an expression of how shamefully out of control he was. There were so many pieces left to pick up now. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to mend the fracture between him and Kim, but she at long last spoke.

"Don't feel bad Ron."

She turned to face him, shining tears dried to her cheeks betraying the soulless expression. "I probably would have done the same thing."

Ron nodded gently as Kim made long strides towards him. "KP, you know that's not true."

She didn't blink when he thought she would, and looked past his shoulder. "I loved her."

"I know," he squeaked.

There was a silence between them for some time — it felt honest so Kim acknowledged it with direct eye contact. "She hurt me — messed me up, I know. But she was real with me. I'll never forget that."

Her head tilted away in the monologue and he found himself losing focus. His eyes drifted to the corpse. This was a woman he once knew and had spoken to. Now she was lifeless, as still as dirt. He looked up. "You think _being real_ means hurting yourself?"

She finally flinched. Their eyes found each other.

"And if I can be _real_ with you Kim," Ron sucked in a deep breath. "The way you feel towards Shego...right back atchya KP, because that's what you're doing to me."

She looked up and oddly enough — smiled. "So you understand?"

"Sure, whatever, but I'm not going to go hacking at my wrists over it."

The smile held for another moment before his jab processed. She struggled to keep the smile up but of course it draped itself back down.

"Kim — we're in the same boat. There's — people out there who are telling us to do things we don't want to do and guess what — _I_ said no. You didn't."

Her eyes widened.

"This is your moment to say no. Whatever Shego just told you — you don't have to do it. Stay here. Just be Kim. It doesn't have to be theatrics — " Ron's speech sounded rehearsed. Probably because it had been dormant. " — I've done worse things than you have now but I'm going to keep fighting. So fight with me — "

There was a swish in the air and Ron flinched though he didn't know why at first. When his eyes reopened, he saw Kim's hand less than an inch from his face. Her face was scrunched up in frustration and she retracted the hand back as a fist. "I don't want to be like her," she muttered to herself.

She looked up suddenly, livid in a way that he had never seen before. "Look at me."

He didn't.

"I said look at me."

Lips pursed, his icy blue eyes swung up and she briefly faltered. "Who are you?" she screamed.

Ron's lower teeth bit into his lip. "Who are you?!"

"Save it — are you really that surprised that this is who I ended up becoming? Did you think I was going to keep coasting on the teen hero image? Live forever selfless and not question things — not even once?"

He was hoping her tears would revert to flowing but nothing came.

"You talk down to me like I'm out of mind but wake up Ron — this is me. For better or for worse. I can't believe you just insulted me for cutting myself." She started to say something else but swallowed it, turning on her heel to bail.

"I think it's stupid," Ron muttered.

Kim became glued to the spot and looked over her shoulder. "Why do you think I did it? Tell me. Tell me right now."

He opened his mouth to say the obvious — attention — but that didn't make sense when the gears in his brain actually started turning. "Um," he said instead. "I dunno."

"Because I've hurt people and I hate myself for it — and they can't even touch me. If they could hurt me, oho, yeah, they'd break me but no — I can do anything! No one can stop me, me, the all powerful Kim Possible! Ron, I'm in Hell right now. Yes, I cut my wrists, yes, I know it's alarming, and yes, of course I regret it. But I am trying to recover and this — this!" she held up a bandaged wrist. "This is part of the process. I can't forget this."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "So now what?"

"Call Betty. Tell her what happened. No, I'm serious, Ron. I'm not trying to get you in trouble — but she has it out for you. Think about what happened after we blew up the Bermuda Triangle — "

" — _you_ blew up the Bermuda — " he snuck in.

" — whatever, fine, but remember the headhunt on me?" Kim's hands shook at her sides. "Ron if I didn't care about you, I wouldn't say any of these things."

He wanted to spit an insult back at her but instead he spoke the honest to god truth. "Same. But what about you?"

Her expression softened. "I'm going to do what Shego asked me to do. Not because she said so but because I want it, and I hope you can appreciate the difference."

"I do."

"And Ron?"

"What is it Kim?

They faced each other for a long time. Sirens closed in on them.

"We're not friends anymore," she said. "There's a girl inside me who wishes she could love you with all her heart, but she's in the way of my work — she's hollow and it's not worth making sacrifices for her anymore. Do you understand?"

Everything he worked towards this fall semester — was to separate. Get over Kim. Get a job where people will like him and be grateful for him. Study hard. Be good. Be the best Ron he could be.

But the work — it superseded all that. His little journey of self-discovery paled besides the message.

"I do, Kim. Believe me I do," he said darkly.

She offered a rare smile. "Good. I hope that we can one day — I hope that we can be on the same side, but for right now — we have different visions. And we might end up on opposing sides very soon and when that does happen — I will not hesitate in taking you out."

"Respect that I'll do the same for you," he said wryly and for whatever reason, a giggle escaped his chapped lips.

She laughed too. An uncontrollable snickering that watered her eyes, she stuffed her hand into her mouth and bit onto it hard.

They had both laughed. Kim gently lowered her hand, teeth marks deeply embedded in her skin, and looked at Ron for a long time. It would have made sense to walk away just as much as it would have made sense to walk up to him and hold him so they could both cry.

That's where they were.

Her fingers twitched at her sides and finally she wiped the silly tears from her cheeks. "Goodbye Ron."

* * *

"Password?"

"Oh come off it Rhino."

"'Ey, I'm just doin' my job here kid. Raise de wrist."

 **Bermuda Triangle: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 6:23PM**

Kim ground her teeth as Rhino the Bouncer slipped the kiddie bracelet around her wrist.

"You're looking slick tonight by the way, Princess."

That was true. Dressed to the nines in a slick black suit that tenderly hugged her waist, red tie burning among all the black, perfectly matching her hair, shining clodhoppers kicking up with every step, she tried to look aloof. She ran a hand through her hair, thumb briefly touching the cool patch on the side of her head that she had shaved off underneath the bob.

Though the compliment made her smile, the nickname had to go.

"Please don't call me that," she said weakly.

Kim strut through the open Bermuda Triangle floor quickly, fast enough to turn heads. But before she could pass through the curtain that lead to Big Daddy's lounge, a feeble hand shoved against her. Though not nearly strong enough to stop her, she elected to remain still and cool-headed.

"Don't make a scene," Hank Perkins whispered. "We already know what happened — " His face scrunched up as his eyes passed over the girl. "New look, huh? Talk about a quarter life crisis — hey, kiddo. Listen — "

"Shego's dead," Kim said very plainly.

Hank hesitated. "I know that."

Kim tilted her head to the side and smirked. "Hank, don't get on my bad side. You know who you work for now, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Hank spat. "Someone just died — we haven't had time to rearrange the hierarchy yet — "

"No worries, Shego took the time."

Hank's jaw hung open.

"Mhm," Kim dug her hands into her pockets. "So don't make it weird between us."

Hank growled and bowed back, clipboard jam-packed with papers almost slipping in his sarcastic curtsy.

"Good boy," Kim laughed. "Now our people just got hit. Hard. So we hit them back. Harder. Got it? I want a flight booked for Yamanouchi pronto."

Hank coughed. "Isn't that a little — obvious?" He quickly shrank under Kim's glare.

"Well I think it'd be nice if we could beat Ron down there so we don't have to worry about him, right? Less paperwork."

"Of course Miss. Possible."

"Mmm, love the sound of that," Kim giggled, ducking under the curtain. "I hope you heard all that Big Daddy." Her head pushed through the velvet and she looked over at the ginormous man still lounging on his silly bean bag sack.

"What is it you want?" he asked. "In the depths of your ignorance, what is it you want?"

Kim's hands pressed against her waist and she considered the crime kingpin. "I want to talk to Big "Big" Daddy. Shego said it's time and that I'm ready for the job."

Big Daddy groaned. "Job? Ha. You have a lot of nerve asking for him."

"I do," she shrugged. "But hey — it's either that or I pick up a gig at Global Justice. Rest assured you'll be Public Enemy Number One."

Big Daddy's throbbing forehead leveled out with the floor and he swallowed something. "I'll set up a meet. Rhino will drive you to the Denver Museum of Nature & Science. We have people there."

"Uh huh, nice try. I'll walk. Give me a time."

"If you want to be our Number One," Big Daddy heaved himself up to his feet and slowly made his way over to Kim. "Which not even Sheilah was..." He sized her up and held out a hand. "We have to trust each other."

She eyed the pudgy hand and noticed she was staring. Embarrassed, she eyed the ceiling and shook his hand. "Yeah, yeah."

"Not _yeah, yeah_ , even Sheilah had more manners. I understand you are physically capable, Miss Possible but…." Big Daddy tutted, turning to retreat back to his cushion. He paused momentarily to look over his shoulder. "Maybe practice your best sturm and bravado on the way down because he will see right through you with that attitude. He makes the call. Not me."

* * *

"So you goin' on a date or somethin'?"

"Huh?"

"I said _you goin' on a date or somethin'?_ I'm just tryna figure out why you dolled up so much."

"Oh. Uh. Just a change of pace."

 **En Route: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 8:51PM**

No Rhino. I lied. You're driving me so I can meet up with a criminal mastermind. I will be negotiating on my behalf as to why I should be his new Number One. I am going to spearhead all operations from this point forward and probably kill many people — because it's the right thing to do.

Sigh.

She rolled down the window.

"Hey kid, those are bulletproof for a reason. I don't wanna tell ya what to do but — "

"Okay, fine."

Childish though it may be, that kind of ticked Kim off so she slouched back in the seat and said nothing.

She needed Shego's job. Well really, what she was gunning for was bigger than that — Shego didn't even know who Big "Big" Daddy was. Nor did O.G. Big Daddy. The concept was simple; take the seat and destabilize. Or mold it to her liking.

Call it solo freelance courtesy of Team Possible. Not that she was part of _that_ anymore.

She closed her eyes and twitched as she imagined pinning up a corkboard for her new mission.

Priority One was to take down Sensei. Though the man had almost killed her from across the planet. It was possible that it wasn't her time yet. But the man needed to be dealt with and she needed to figure out if Ron was going to grow up to be like him. If so, he would be Priority Two. Which was likely.

Just think about the work, Possible. Don't make it personal.

Priority Three was Doctor Elizabeth Doctor. Yes, she was kicking herself for not offing Betty when she had the chance. Obviously corrupt with a wide reach across the planet. Global Justice itself had a lot of good people on board. Like Will Du. More people like him needed to be in charge. Not six feet under.

She grimaced.

Priority Four was personal. Doctor Drakken. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but out of everyone, he likely knew Shego best. Who cared if he probably ruined her life during that MIT mission — she needed friends.

Oh God, Possible. You just told yourself: don't make it personal. The work. Remember the work.

Priority Four was Big Daddy's operation. But that depended on where things went. If things went as she pleased, no one would need to get hurt. But if things went haywire then —

— for the sake of her own sanity, the one personal thing that needed to remain intact, that was an offer to be extended to all parties. Sensei, Ron, Betty, Team Go, Wade, Yori, all of them. Join me or I will crush you.

Not that Team Go, Yori, nor Wade needed crosshairs locked on them.

Ron on the other hand….

"Uh, Miss Possible, we're here, but before you go in…"

"What is it Rhino?"

"You might want to fix your makeup."

"Oh….oh! Thanks, I — uh — I don't know what came over me."

* * *

It was strange to waltz through so many artifacts under the blind watch of the moon. It was dark throughout the museum. While one guard had allowed her in because of his connection with Big Daddy, that didn't mean that there weren't other guards who would arrest her on sight.

When did things get so messed up?

Probably when you got a God complex.

Yeah. Fair.

 **Denver Museum of Nature & Science: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 9:11PM**

She was observing a model of a plesiosaur when she heard footsteps. They were different than the heavy footfalls of the guards. This was probably her guy.

She wished she had a way to identify him right away; it would make her look cool.

So instead she turned around to find a tall figure standing far away from her in the shadows.

"Hello," he said darkly.

Kim threw up some air quotes. "Big "Big" Daddy?"

"The same."

She squinted but it was still too dark to make him out at all. "I'm Kim Possible."

"Oh, no need for that. We've met before."

"Excuse me?"

"Ha."

Moonlight trailed up the figure's body which was very unremarkable. It wasn't until the light met his eyes that Kim flinched.

Blue skin with an ugly scar running from his left eye and down the cheek.

"Doctor Drakken?"

"Charmed I'm sure."


	24. If I Can't Take Over the World

"Drakken, y—you're Big "Big" Daddy?!"

"Yes, and I believe you're my new Number One."

 **Denver Museum of Nature & Science: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 9:25PM**

Kim withdrew unto herself, slouching for a brief moment before remembering that she was a professional. Her hands flung up from her sides and straightened out her lapels. "You've got to be pranking me, right? This is a joke."

Drakken smirked before lazily gesturing at her. "Walk with me, talk with me." He moved on into the shadows, and with a heavy sigh she stomped after him.

"I really thought you quit," Kim spoke into the silence. "That's the only reason I broke into Middleton Prison last month; I was seeing if anyone caught word of you."

"Ah," Drakken drawled. "I'm flattered. You talked to Demenz then?"

"Yes, he didn't know anything though," Kim frowned. "He did mention you had a great story about how you turned blue I guess."

Drakken pivoted on his heel. "It _is_ a funny story! Not funny haha, but — " he paused and eyed the ceiling for inspiration. " — you see Kimberly Ann, it was a Tuesday…"

"I'm good!" she chimed, throwing up a flat hand. "I'm just confused — I was convinced you gave up."

Drakken sniffled and put his hands to his flat hips. "I am curious as to what you imagined."

"Well — we've already been over how you sent my name in to colleges all across the country in an attempt to overwhelm me. Then there was the whole shebang at MIT which in actuality — though the fire wasn't directly his fault, it was because of Ron it got that bad."

Drakken beamed at her proudly. "Precisely."

"Same with Algeria."

"Yes."

"I thought your villainy game was weak — it made sense when you just up and vanished but no — all that was calculated. Passive but effective," she frowned. "You knew what it would do to me and Ron."

"Of course I did," Drakken climbed up onto the ledge of an exhibit for marine dwelling dinosaurs. He stepped into the pond surrounding the strung-up fossils and took three steps before all of a sudden, dropping out of sight, sinking into the water though Kim could see no splash.

Very carefully, she tailed the bad doctor and found the spot Drakken had disappeared into was a hologram. Descending down a wet set of stairs, she checked around her and saw stone walling off the water from pouring into the secret lair, though the occasional splash had indeed dumped over. She briefly played with the hologram, hand waving through the blue before Drakken shouted at her.

"Come on!"

"Got it!" she whispered and trailed after him, shoes squeaking from being waterlogged.

* * *

"Wow, this is pretty lowkey, especially for you."

"Yes, it does pain me to have such a dinky lair but such is the fate of a criminal mastermind."

"...alright, you don't need to gloat so much. I get it, you outsmarted me."

"I did!"

 **Drakken's Underground Lair: Denver, Colorado  
** **December 27, 2007: 9:31PM**

Even Kim's timeshare hideaway in Middleton was bigger than this. Made of stone that looked ugly in the fluorescent lighting, the only furniture was a tiny unkempt bed, a kitchen table with two chairs, a fridge, and a lab table that's projects were concealed by a pale yellow curtain.

"So...when did you strongarm Big Daddy's operation?" Kim asked lazily though really, that was the most important of her questions.

"A few weeks after MIT."

She cringed. "So I've been working for you the whole time then, huh?"

"Yes," Drakken poured himself a glass of water and looked over to her, raising an empty glass. She nodded, and he poured more from the Britta filter. "Lemon?"

"Please and thank you."

She slumped into the chair and rubbed her face with both hands.

"It's not so bad, is it? I thought you liked your missions," Drakken chuckled as he took a seat before her, rolling a lemon slice across the rickety table. She grabbed it with two fingers and smashed it against the inner wall of the glass, seeds carelessly dropping into the glass, golden rinds disintegrating into mist.

"So you started me off with Jack Hench because well — I guess it was kind of a no brainer that he shouldn't have been in office but — " Kim literally scratched her head in frustration. " — God, you did that so I could clean out the villain market for you."

Drakken tittered. "No actually. I just like Chris Giunchigliani. Let's hope she wins the Democratic Primary."

"I don't believe you," she growled. "Since when do you care about politics?"

"Since _you_ took an interest," he grinned and swished the ice in his glass. "I kept track of what you were reading in Shego's loft. Audre Lorde, James Baldwin, it's obvious you care about these sorts of things."

"I read a lot of Sylvia Plath too," Kim said sullenly, remembering her first brush with suicide ideation while waiting for Shego to come home one day. "The Bell Jar's my favorite book."

"Mm. Well...tell me more."

"Well next — Global Justice. Don't you even dare lie to me and say killing Betty was for the greater good."

"I won't," he chuckled and set the glass down. "I knew you wouldn't kill her — but I didn't want Big Daddy and Shego to think I had gone soft so — anywho, I knew you were going to go after your precious battle suit instead. But did I expect Agent Will Du to kick the bucket? Ha!"

"Not funny, he was a good man. He had a right to be critical of both me and Ron."

"Oh really, so why'd you fight him?"

Used to jumping in with a quip, Kim's mouth opened but no sound came out. It took her awhile to say it. "I — I didn't want to go to jail...and of course, I wanted the suit back because I didn't trust him with it — _or myself_ ," she very deliberately pointed out.

Drakken licked his lips. "Mhm, the point of that mission was to at least get murder on your itinerary. As for why Betty specifically, I wanted you to see how _the real good guys_ actually were."

"Hold on," Kim stuttered. "You wanted _me_ to see — this is getting really personal."

"Well that's sort of the point," Drakken shrugged. "It's always been about you."

"I'm not your toy," she said coldly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. It was definitely me who forced you to join an evil, evil organization as a hitman."

"What was it? Mind control chips? Moodulators?" Kim gasped at the change in Drakken's expression. "It was the Moodulators! You planted one on me. That's why — "

"No!" Drakken shouted, voice banging off the walls, and she almost shrank. Once silence fell over them, he continued. "Take responsibility. You chose this."

A leg to Kim's chair jammed against stone and the wooden frame almost flipped from Kim's sudden rise in anger. "Bullshit. "

"Oh, the mouth on you — "

"Shut the fuck up."

Drakken was within mere inches of Kim, chest dragged over from across the table, lab-coat squeezing his neck. Almost immediately, she realized what she was doing and let go of him. "Sorry. I don't want to be a bad guy."

Her head bowed past her shoulders and while her back was to Drakken, the heaving in her chest was obvious.

Drakken frowned in an odd moment of compassion and followed her over to the bed where she took a seat. He respectfully remained standing. "You're not a bad guy."

"I feel like one," Kim moaned. "I talk like one — I even dress like one now. I thought — you had to have some ulterior motive that wasn't about me. Like in New Hampshire. You wanted that Synthodrone freak to kill me, right?"

Drakken blinked and coughed into his glove. "Erm. Well. No."

"So then what?" she watched his mouth twitch and after some time found the truth that had been right in front of her. "I was supposed to kill him. Another part in your perfect plan."

"Somewhat — yes, though I apologize if he was — handsy — at all," this was the one time Drakken's eyes weren't locked onto her. "Shego had gone off-the-rails and threw you into the forest hoping it would either kill you — or get you to grow a spine. I can only assume that was her motive at least, we never spoke about any of this."

"...you never spoke...?"

He held up a finger, signalling that they needed to put a pin on it. "I knew you were having trouble adjusting and I thought — I thought giving you a non-organic target that was still alive would be ideal. You were going to break otherwise. So I threw together a new Eric and — you know the rest."

Kim remembered the sadistic mirth that sprang to her cheeks when she killed him. She nodded and undid the top button to her dress shirt. "So what do you mean you never spoke to Shego about this?"

"Exactly that."

"...oh my God."

"Yes — she — erm — didn't know. Not about me, and not about the plan. Mind you, I gave her assignments before she left that I hoped would lead her to working for Big Daddy and that did pay off but — well — you know Shego. Hates mind control, cloning, anything that's mushy gushy. I knew she wouldn't go for my plan unless it was of her own design. Or at least — " he sighed guiltily. " — if it seemed that way."

"So you manipulated her too."

"It was what she wanted," Drakken shrugged and dragged over a chair as Kim's legs did their best imitation of a privileged white man on a New York City subway train. "Same as you really. Listen, I understand you two had — relations — "

Kim's face went scarlet.

Drakken's voice puttered out. A few seconds later he came back to and very gravely added, "I miss her too. I didn't think she'd put her life on the line for the work — and I'm proud of her for that — but I wish she held back. She — she was my best friend after all."

Kim nodded, lips pressed tightly together. She waited for Drakken to say more.

"Did she tell you to look for Big "Big" Daddy?" Drakken asked.

"Yeah. It was her final request," Kim pushed her hair back, palm pressing the bald spot on her cranium. The short hairs pressed into her skin like tiny needles. Felt good. "She died because she wanted me to see Ron at his worst...she even told me that. I said it wasn't worth it but — " she tried her best not to cry. " — she said I was wrong.

An odd smile from Drakken. "I would have done the same."

Though Kim knew it was wrong — knew that the green woman held so much contempt for her — and that she, on the flippity, should have felt the same contempt but decidedly — didn't. Shego had abused Kim, played her like a violin and as overt as it became, Kim allowed it because she didn't know what else to do. Apparently, Shego had undergone the same abuse from the bad doctor and already, Kim was sponging Shego's behavior onto Ron.

She was an abuser too. It was a chain.

"Drew," the name sounded strange as it clicked from Kim's tongue. "I was in love with her. I know she didn't feel that way towards me but — please tell me you're lying. Tell me that I didn't break up my best friend and fall in love with an abusive mercenary without any interference from you."

Drakken couldn't say anything.

Kim buried her face in her hands and her voice squeezed from her lungs much higher than usual. "I really messed up."

Drakken waited for the sobbing to die down and handed her a tissue. She blew on it and looked up at him with watery eyes.

"My plan is not to break you, Kimberly Ann, though it might feel that way right now." Drakken seemed very earnest. "It's to empower you."

"Excuse me — what?" Kim dropped the tissue on the bed and got to her feet, though Drakken remained seated. "How is this empowering? I'm a laughing stock — a PSA for the mentally ill — I — I ruined my own life, Drakken."

"Shh," Drakken whispered. "You're still young, and this is the final phase of my plan anywho."

"What is?"

He pointed at the floor between them.

"What?" Kim stuttered. "How — how — how is this it? This can't be it."

Drakken got up and walked over to the lab table, fingers pinching the curtain. "I've been influencing your decisions, yes, but am I forcing your hand? No. And will I? Double no. See, you are not becoming my Number One, Kimberly Ann."

"I—I'm not?" she almost regretted the Shego-lite ensemble she had tailored for herself.

"No. See. You're the new Big "Big" Daddy. I'm retiring as of — " he checked his watch. " — this minute. December 27th, 9:38PM."

"Wh—what? That's not — " the tension in Kim's jaw was giving her a headache. "They won't accept me as the boss. No way."

"They don't have a choice," Drakken said warmly. "I need you to understand something, and we touched on this in Vegas — I'm old. Washed up. A dreamer. Big picture, not nuts and bolts. The only thing I've managed to do right is save the world — and that was pretty much an accident. I'll never take over the world. And before — I blamed you. I named you my adversary and schemed to destroy you."

Kim's heart thumped. She thought about Eric. The first one, and how her heart had nearly been cleaved in two.

"But then I realized — I'll never defeat you. You're smarter than me — than most people — and boy do you know how to win a fight. You see Kimberly Ann," Drakken lectured. "What started all of this was one little thought: _If I can't take over the world, maybe she can._ "

Kim blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You were already very capable — and now look at yourself. No holds barred with an entire criminal syndicate under your belt. Use them how you see fit, do the right thing, whatever that may be. You have all the power and influence in the world now. _That_ is what I am giving you."

Kim had to sit down. "I can't — I don't even want to take over the world — "

"But don't you want to stop Master Sensei? Is he not abusing his power and position?"

"Of course — I hate him, he's number one on my list but — "

"Ah good. You have a list. And what of Elizabeth Director? Doesn't it make you sick knowing how she handled William Du's death? Pardoning you and offering you a job at her side?"

"It does make me sick, but I can't — "

"Ronald Stoppable. He killed someone we both loved very much. Most powerful person on the planet with not a clue on how to manage his strength."

"Drakken, shut up — I don't want to — "

"You're crying; good! You should be! Despite everything that's happened to you, you still feel love. You're not a monster, you want people to be okay. You find beauty in things — you're stronger than you know but — to do what's right — to do the work that you know must be done — you're going to need help."

"H-help?"

He pulled back the curtain and on the lab table was the Attitudinator. Not the same she saw at Hench's weapon's convention; that one had been destroyed and discontinued. This was something else.

"After we stole the Moodulators from Bortel, I used them as a base component to my own Attitudinator. Just as effective as ever though."

Kim rubbed a sleeve to her face, staining it in snot. "Why don't you just use it on yourself? Why does it have to be me?"

"Because I'm an idiot," Drakken shrugged in an oaf-ish way that really reminded her of Shego. "A mama's boy who is better off selling cupcakes than world domination. But you — you can handle it."

Her teeth chattered. "I'm not — I'm not a bad guy, I don't — "

"There is no _bad_ , Kimberly Ann. It's just feelings. You're hesitating — you don't have to. Use the Attitudinator. Become _evil_. You already have the mission in mind — you're just scared of hurting people. But who cares? Twenty years from now, who will care that you killed Ron Stoppable?"

" _I hope that we can be on the same side, but for right now — we have different visions. And we might end up on opposing sides very soon and when that does happen — I will not hesitate in taking you out."_

She blinked back more tears but it did not help her see any better.

"All that matters is the work. Do the work, Kim. Think about the future."

She looked to the Attitudinator and was surprised to see her shaking hand stretching out before her. She pulled back her wrist and screamed, feet stomping against the floor. Her head crumpled to her chest and her shoulders writhed in her tears. She twisted her wrist hard and gasped as the already sore area ignited in pain. "I hurt myself for a reason. I know what I'm doing is wrong."

"It's not wrong!" Drakken said abruptly. "You don't have to be in pain anymore."

She closed her eyes.

Bit her lip.

And prayed for forgiveness.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, though the blurry sheet kept sliding over her vision, and she stood tall. Rolled back the shoulders, twitched the fingers, and stared at the wretched machine. It would be so easy to wind back the clock — all those disgusting feelings bubbling in her, keeping her from eating and sleeping, they spawned from self-loathing and guilt and with a flick of the switch — gone.

It was like she told Ron — Kim Possible was dead, at least in the sense that she was so empty that she was indistinguishable from drywall. Nothing could possibly make her happy now, so why tap into those secret desires? Why bother with anything personal? This journey she embarked on when she flew to Paris — though ill-conceived — accomplished what she wanted.

She learned that after everything — she was right, and her feelings didn't matter. She left so she could find herself — and she found nothing.

But the work. Shego taught her about the work, she saw the work unfold firsthand and it was right.

So why not finish the job and finally kill Kim Possible? That was the Attitudinator; it was right there and all too easy to use. Within seconds, her nightmares and visions of suicide could die and be replaced with an ambitious young woman who wants to change the world — and actually has the leverage to do so.

No more self-harm, no more self-medicating, no more abuse, no more spiraling.

 _"Kim — we're in the same boat. There's — people out there who are telling us to do things we don't want to do and guess what — I said no. You didn't."_

Or she could try. Try to get better, not take the easy way out, and potentially sentence herself to suicide.

She hadn't realized she was holding the Attitudinator, but she set it down and though she couldn't see him, she could feel Drakken's hungry eyes burrowing into her back. Waiting for her to pull the string.

She closed her eyes.

"No."

Drakken stuttered. "No?"

She brushed the hair from her eyes and waited until her heart stopped pounding. "I'll do it. I'll take over the world." Her cold voice haunted even her. "But I need to hold onto what little _me_ there is. I appreciate you going through the trouble to make it easier for me but — "

Deep sigh. A shuddering breath.

If you get in my way Ron, I'll kill you. That's what you said.

What is _my way_? _How_ could I even kill someone like him? _Why_ would that make the world a better place? I know it would — could — _if_ he continues to kill indiscriminately. He — he hasn't done anything wrong — yet.

Shego should have died. Just like me. But I'm still breathing. Pull back the frame. Think. Are you really going to walk away after all this time? You coward. No. I'm no coward. I'm not —

Princess, you are twisted — I mean, you give even me the heebie-jeebies. Thank God the Buffoon killed me so I don't have to see it.

No. Not Shego. No more. She hated me. Dying was her last revenge.

KP. You need help — you're — I hate to say it, you're a psychopath.

Yes. Yes, Ron, I am. But — I feel alive?

This is the last time I can choose to be self-destructive — or the first time I can choose to heal.

" — I won't be — "

Drakken stared at her, slack-jawed and gawk-eyed.

She raised an eyebrow and suddenly caught how dry her throat was. "How — how much of that was out loud?"

"A—all of it?" he stuttered. "You impersonate Shego and the Buffoon very well…"

A pink came to her cheeks — she needed help alright. But! The task at hand. Brass tacks. Focus Kim. Head in the game.

"I won't be needing the Attitudinator to take over the world — " she explained.

" _Puh-lease. You can do anything."_

" — because I'm ready right now. Thank you for waking me up."


End file.
